Broken Arrow
by Beth aka Midge
Summary: Vin's life before Four Corners


1 Broken Arrow  
  
By Beth aka Midge  
  
OW story (Vin)  
  
Notes: This is Vin Tanner's story, or how I see him growing up and finally joining up with the rest of the 'seven'. I try and stick with canon as much as possible. I also have Vin fighting for the North during the Civil War. I did contemplate this for a long time and came up with the conclusion that Vin Tanner would fight for what he thought was right, and not be bound from he was from.  
  
Special Thanks: To my betas…Julie, Antoinette, and Katherine…you're all just awesome!  
  
  
  
Foreword  
  
1.1 April 1848  
  
Hope Tanner watched as her husband rode on ahead of the wagon and oxen. Moving the reins into one hand she gently placed the other onto her growing belly. They had left Kentucky were heading to Amarillo, Texas, to make a new life for their family. It had been Mathew's idea to purchase the small piece of land, and build a homestead there, and Hope knew she was on the right path. It was as though the wind was calling her name. The possibilities of their new home brought a smile to her face, a new life, with a new farm, and a new child.  
  
Having been raised by her father, a trapper by trade, Hope was a five foot two inch rock. As a young girl, she was picking out knives to skin coons, wolves, and deer with, while other girls her age were picking out ribbons to put in their hair. She'd learned to shoot before she'd learn to read, and if it weren't for the fact that her belly was swollen with a child she'd be wearing a side arm. Her father had made sure his daughter was going to be able to survive…no matter what.  
  
Her clothing was simple, but practical. With her long brown hair set neatly at the base of her skull she pulled her wide brimmed summer hat down further to shield her eyes from the sun. Sitting in the wagon seat hadn't done her ankles any good as she tried to keep them moving to prevent the swelling from getting too bad. When she and Mathew had started out on their trek west she hadn't told him she was in the family way. Nothing was going to keep her from her and her husband's dreams.  
  
Dirt swirled around the feet of the oxen as they pulled the heavy wagon toward Texas. The sun beat down on them with an unforgiving heat, but the passionate blue sky and flat lands all but made up for it. Hope rubbed her belly again and started humming an old song her father used to sing at night by the fire. The wagon creaked and swayed as it slowly moved across the barren land. Home was just around the corner.  
  
Hope smiled when she saw her husband gallop up. His face was dusty and the band of his hat showed just how hot he really was as sweat soaked through. His blue eyes glistened with pride and his heart swelled at the sight before him.  
  
"It ain't much further," Mathew's voice came out smooth and soft. "You doin' all right?"  
  
Hope nodded her head. She'd never admit that her back was sore or that she was unbearably hot. She wanted to get home. "I'll be fine," she reassured. "What's it look like?" she asked in anticipation.  
  
"It's real fine." Mathew slowed his horse to a walk next to the wagon. "The cabin'll need work, but Mr. Cooper said that in the letter he sent. "I reckon I'll go into town in the next day or two and pick up a few supplies." He smiled and looked at his wife. "You're gonna love it, Hope."  
  
"I already do," she replied. "I already do."  
  
******  
  
Like so much of the land they had crossed on their way, the Tanner homestead wasn't much different. A cabin, which had been built many years ago, was the only standing structure. The windows had been broken years before and only the tattered remains of what used to be curtains hung lifelessly in the windowpanes. The front door was ajar and off it's hinges and the roof needed to be repaired. Weeds had grown of their own accord through the floorboards and around the porch. Hope didn't care…this was home.  
  
Mathew hadn't stopped talking about the plans he was making for this 'future' cattle ranch. He talked as though he was going to get all the repairs done in a few days, as opposed to a few years. Hope just laughed. She loved the ideas her husband had and the passion in his heart when he spoke of things he felt strongly about.  
  
The oxen came to a stop and Mathew helped his wife down onto the dusty ground. She didn't waste any time as she headed inside and immediately started ordering her husband to bring in the cleaning supplies, rags, the broom, and a pail of water. She wanted to make sure the house was clean before they moved in.  
  
It was only a one-room home, but there was potential to build more. They were going to have to, with a child on the way and many more to come. This wasn't her first child. No. Her first had died in infancy a few months after his birth. This was the reason for the move, and the new dreams. Samuel had been a precious child with the brightest blue eyes, but life wasn't meant for him, God had other plans.  
  
******  
  
Home…eighty acres, a small stream, and a large tree not far from the house…yes, this was home. Hope looked again at the front entrance. Mathew had repaired the door, and was now putting the oxen away as well as his horse. The minimal amount of furniture fit inside of the cabin perfectly. A bed rested, made and covered in quilts and two pillows, near the far wall. An old rocker, the one her father had sat in so many times before, had been placed next to the Dutch oven. On the mantel sat a Bible, lamp, and Mathew's rifle. A simply made table rested in the center of the room with two chairs at each end. A vase full of wild flowers had been placed in the middle. They had been Mathew's welcoming home gift to Hope. Though he reassured her that the flowers wouldn't be able to compare with her beauty.  
  
Mathew placed a loving arm around the waist of his wife…his bride, and they looked at their home together. Hope rested her head on his shoulder, and with one hand on her belly and the other around his waist, she smiled. After two years of marriage, and six months of traveling to this very spot…they were home.  
  
******  
  
Hope leaned against the doorframe and watched as the sun slowly made its descent. The light from within the cabin cascaded around her giving her an angelic appearance. Her long brown hair hung gently around her shoulders. Though graceful on her outer shell, inside, she was in chaos. Mathew had left with their neighbor David, to go out hunting. He had said he would be back before dark. It was now, just before midnight.  
  
The oxen munched on their feed in the simple corral and their backs glowed under the light of the moon. The stream of running water behind the house was the only sound filling the air. On occasion an owl would screech and the distant howl of a wolf, but that was all.  
  
Hope's mind wondered at the possibilities. Where was Mathew? Was he okay? Was David with him? Was he alone? Questions without answers, that's all they were. Her child was coming, and soon. Now wasn't the time to… She couldn't even bear the thought. Mathew would come back. She was sure of it. She had to be.  
  
When a single horse appeared in the distance Hope's heart pounded wildly in her chest. She stepped out onto the porch and waited in anticipation. When the familiar chestnut got closer, fear seeped into every poor of her body. The slumped shoulders of the rider gave Hope the impression that things were bad.  
  
David pulled his horse to a stop and slowly dismounted. His throat constricted and he couldn't get his mouth to cooperate enough to form around the words he needed to speak. David wasn't a big man, and in many ways he reminded Hope of her husband. Though Mathew's hair had been lighter, his eyes bluer, and his features softer, David had the same quality about him.  
  
"Please don't," Hope said, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew.  
  
"I'm so sorry," David muttered past uncooperative lips. "We were ridin' along the ravine an' his horse spooked," he grasped his hat tighter, not wanting to continue, but knowing he had to, "I couldn't get down to 'im," he choked, "but I stayed 'till I knew he'd past."  
  
Hope, trying to be strong, covered her mouth with her hand and nodded in understanding. The thought of her husband out there, unreachable, in so many ways, tore her to the bone. "Thank you…for not lettin' him die alone." A tear shed down her cheek and she let it fall to her blouse.  
  
"You gonna be all right?" David asked, continuing to roll the rim of his hat between his hands.  
  
Hope just nodded, she didn't know what else to do.  
  
"I'll bring Abigail by in the mornin', she's not gonna want you here alone with a child comin'…matter of fact, why don't ya come home with me? Abby would prefer it." A light of encouragement flickered in David's eyes.  
  
"No." Hope shook her head. "Go home David," she ordered. She wanted…needed, to be alone. Lovingly, she stroked her belly while refusing to look him in the eye.  
  
David nodded his head in understanding. "Abby and I'll come by in the mornin' to see you. Then I'll get some men from town to retrieve Mathew." When he stepped forward to offer a hug, Hope backed away. She was facing the world on her own, and she intended to meet that challenge head on. David stepped back, he didn't want to push her. "I'll be here in the mornin'," he said again.  
  
Hope nodded her head absently, and watched as David mounted his horse and headed off. Her whole being was engulfed in grief. Her child was due any day, and after only two months of living in this new territory, all of her dreams were crashing to the ground.  
  
Stepping back into the cabin, Hope grabbed her belly as a contraction came. "Not now," she cried, slipping to the floor. "Not now."  
  
******  
  
Giving birth was not something Hope had intended to do on her own, even on the best of days. She knew what to expect, and she knew a little of what to do. After all, this wouldn't be her first child. Indian women did this all the time; it was common knowledge that they'd leave their workstations to have their children and return hours later to complete it. Hope could do that to, she was going to have to.  
  
The contractions came hard and fast and she used the end of the bed as support. She screamed unashamedly as the pains racked her small body. This baby was coming with a vengeance and would stop at nothing to arrive.  
  
At the crack of dawn, Vincent Mathew Tanner was born. Hope smiled down at her son and cried uncontrollably. Her hair was slick from sweat, and her face pale from the long night of exertion. However, she had a child to show for her effort. She tied off the umbilical cord and waited patiently for the last contraction to come. She had done it. Giving birth to this boy on her own, Vin would never learn how his father had perished, instead, he'd learn how strong he was, and how strong he had made her. She didn't want her son living in the shadow of his father, it was more important for him to find himself in this life and decide who he wanted to be on his own.  
  
Hope pulled her child to her breast and started feeding him. He was so perfect, in every sense of the word. She gently brushed away his stray brown hairs as he suckled her breast. Mathew would be so proud of this child, the child he'd never see. Tears of happiness and loss streamed down her cheeks as the suns warm rays permeated through the windows.  
  
1.2 Chapter 1  
  
Vin watched his mother in amazement as she showed him how to use the rifle. He was so eager to learn, and prove he was growing into a strong man. Hope looked at her boy and smiled. Kneeling beside him she carefully positioned the rifle against his shoulder.  
  
"Hold it close to your shoulder," she instructed, allowing Vin to use the large bolder in front of him to help steady the heavy weapon.  
  
"I can do it," he reassured her, squinting his eyes and staring hard at the tin can that his mother had carefully positioned earlier.  
  
Hope sat behind her son wanting so much to help, but at the same time realizing he was already craving his independence. When he pulled the trigger he yelped in pain and flew backwards into his mother's ready embrace.  
  
Vin rubbed his shoulder and tried hard not to cry, but his quivering chin gave his deception away.  
  
"Ya'll right?" Hope asked, not wanting to over shadow his accomplishment. Vin continued to rub his shoulder and nod his head. "That was real good for your first time." She grabbed the rifle and started to reload the weapon. "You want to try it again?"  
  
No, Vin thought, but he could see his mother's eyes pleading for him to say yes. Slowly, he nodded his head. He'd never disappoint his ma.  
  
Hope repositioned the rifle again next to her son's shoulder. She was proud of Vin…he was so much like his father. They shared the same eyes, and though it was still too early to tell if he was going to have the same build as his father, Hope knew that he would.  
  
Vin took a deep breath and with new found determination he positioned the rifle just like his mother had showed him. He held the weapon close with a firm but not forceful grip. "I'm ready," he said softly, letting his mother know to back away.  
  
Hope leaned back in understanding and waited.  
  
The shot filled the air and Vin tried to keep his feet under him, but once again he fell back into his mother's warm embrace. His shoulder ached but he refused to cry. Hope wrapped her arms around her son and chuckled.  
  
"One of these days Vin, you're gonna be able to shoot the center out of a coin," she reassured him, unwilling to release her hold.  
  
"I ain't so sure," Vin said in defeat.  
  
"You hit that can." Hope smiled when her son abruptly stood up and started looking for the target.  
  
Vin turned and looked at her with the proudest of eyes. "I did it," he whispered, then again but louder, "I did it!" He rushed behind the boulder and picked up the can and fingered the hole proudly. With his trophy grasped tightly in his hand he ran to his mother and wrapped his arms around her neck.  
  
"Now, I expect you to do everythin' I told you about handlin' that weapon," Hope instructed, her eyes only intensifying. "You understand?"  
  
Vin pulled away and looked in earnest at his mother and then nodded. "Yes ma'am."  
  
Hope kissed him on the cheek then slowly got to her feet. Yes, so much like his father.  
  
******  
  
Hope sat on the edge of the bed and wiped her son's brown hair away from his face. She smiled, thinking about her father and his curly hair. It was the one thing Vin had inherited from his grandfather. The boy was sound asleep and curled up in a ball under the blankets. He was growing up way too fast, but if he didn't he wouldn't last long in this country. Slowly, she stood up and wiped her hand across her forehead. There was a lot to get done. Vin was growing out of his pants, his socks needed to be darned, and his hair was getting a bit too long.  
  
She had to be strong for her son, and at times that meant being hard. Vin had learned early that it was the tilt of her head, or her stance that told him he was in trouble. Hope never struck her child out of anger, but she did discipline him. Vin, in turn, learned how to respect her wishes.  
  
Vin would run and play in the yard chasing the chickens, climbing the trees, and many times exploring the caverns not far from the house, Hope would watch from the yard while hanging the laundry or churning the butter. She always got a kick out of watching her boy. She'd noticed early on that he had an eye for marksmanship. Whether it be from throwing a stone at the crows, or using his homemade slingshot to shoot at rabbits, the boy had a skill. She only wanted her son to build his talents and recognize his gifts.  
  
Hope leaned back in her rocking chair and started to stitch her son's new britches. He was growing so fast, she sighed. She didn't know what to get him for his birthday, and it was quickly coming. She wiped her brow free of the beads of sweat that had gathered there. She knew she'd been working too hard lately and the pains in her head were getting worse. Thankfully, she hadn't had a bloody nose for the past couple days, but she knew she was getting ill, and if she didn't slow down it would get worse.  
  
Focusing her attention back to her darning, Hope remembered the things she had to get done. David was bringing Abigail by in the morning; this brought a smile to her face. Abby was such a good friend and she cherished Vin as though he was one of her own children. After Mathew's death, David had tried to do all he could for Hope and her son, but it never seemed enough. Guilt had eaten away at his very soul and Abby could only watch as her husband suffered alone through his pain. Things had changed so much over the years, and never in her wildest dreams did Hope believe she'd be raising a child on her own in this wilderness. Her father had taught her to survive…and she was.  
  
******  
  
Vin awoke to find his mother asleep in her rocker. He pulled the top cover off the bed and gently laid it over her sleeping form then he quietly got dressed and headed outside. The sun was just making its appearance over the horizon and the sight brought a smile to the boy's face. The chickens came rushing when they noticed him. They wanted to be fed and they followed him until the ground was coved with orange and yellow specks of grain. Vin rushed to the shed to collect the eggs, not wanting any angry hens coming after him.  
  
When Vin reentered the house he found his mother awake but still in her chair. She smiled and motioned for him to join her. Without hesitation Vin sat the eggs on the counter and slipped onto his mother's lap.  
  
Hope wrapped her arms around her son and sighed. Her head was hurting and she felt hot. She knew she was sick, but thought it wasn't anything to be worried about.  
  
"I fetched the eggs," Vin said, with a smile. "I fed the hens first so's they wouldn't peck me."  
  
Hope chuckled. "You've got your daddy's way about you," she said happily.  
  
"Did the hens peck 'im too?"  
  
Covering her mouth Hope laughed and nodded. "Yes, they pecked him too."  
  
Vin rested his head against his mother's shoulder while she rubbed his back tenderly. "I'm sorry ya miss 'im so."  
  
"He left me with you." Hope took her son's face in her hands and wiped his unruly hair away from his eyes. "I'd never be sorry 'bout that."  
  
Vin smiled and nodded his head. He jumped up when he heard the sound of a wagon outside. Hope smiled again in amusement, she didn't know where he got the energy. The front door was quickly swung open and Vin rushed outside to greet their visitors. Hope started to get up but her head swam for a moment and she ran her hand across her head. She knew she had a fever, and her weak body only confirmed it. She noticed the red spots under the sleeve of her shirt hadn't gone away, but instead they'd gotten worse. Summer was right around the corner and she had so much to do. She couldn't get sick now.  
  
******  
  
Vin rushed up towards the big bay mare and he reached up on his tiptoes to pat her soft velvety nose. The large horse nipped in response causing the young boy to chuckle. David stepped down off the buckboard and then helped his wife down. While Abby went on inside David picked Vin up and threw him over his shoulders. The boy squealed in delight.  
  
"Want'a ride?" David asked, knowing what the answer would be.  
  
Vin nodded his head in excitement, his voice cut short by the question. He watched David intently as he unhooked the mare from the wagon and then gently lifted the boy onto the animals back. Vin grabbed a handful of mane wearing a smile that could light up the sky. David chuckled while leading the horse around the yard. There was something about these large beasts that gave even the smallest child a sense of independence. David knew that better than anyone, with three growing boys of his own.  
  
******  
  
Abby walked into the cabin without much thought. She'd known Hope since her arrival some five years before. With few friends, and even fewer women friends, there was a special connection between the two, and they cherished their friendship.  
  
"Good heavens," Abby sighed, placing her hand on Hope's forehead.  
  
Hope chuckled, knowing what Abigail was going to say. "It's nothin'," she tried to reassure. "I'll be fine."  
  
"Girlies, you've got yourself a fever, and workin' yourself to the bone ain't gonna do that boy of yours any good." Abby helped Hope to her feet and then towards the bed where she intended to keep her.  
  
"I've got too much to do," Hope complained, as a blanket was thrown over her shoulders.  
  
"I can do some mendin', and David can take care of the stock…"  
  
"You've got your own place to see too…"  
  
"Samuel and Jacob have been workin' the farm with their father and I s'pect they can do some on their own and Luke, well, Luke's in school. Besides," Abby grinned, "it'll do them some good to learn some responsibility."  
  
Hope smiled and closed her eyes while listening to her friend move quietly around the cabin cooking and cleaning. The pain in her head was increasing and she was finding it almost unbearable to move. She didn't need to worry about Vin, David and Abby would see to him and for that she was thankful. She felt a cool cloth being placed on her forehead and knew instinctively that everything was going to be all right. It had to be.  
  
******  
  
Abby tried to keep Vin quite while Hope slept, but the boy was worried about his mother. She'd fallen asleep so long ago and it was almost nightfall. David had gone home to see to his boys and chores and then retrieve the town doctor. He left his wife to care for Vin and Hope.  
  
Vin crawled up next to his mother when he noticed her move. A worried frown hadn't left his face since discovering she'd fallen ill. "Momma," he whispered quietly, not wanting to alarm Abigail of what he was doing.  
  
Hope gently grasped her son's hand and squeezed. Though the sun was down the little light from the fire and glowing lanterns caused her head to hurt. Her face pinched in agony as abdominal cramps caused her to roll into a ball. Vin didn't leave her side. He couldn't remember her ever getting sick before, and this scared him.  
  
"Momma," Vin said louder. His eyes got wide when he saw a steady stream of blood ooze out of his mother's nose. "Miz Abby!" he called louder, not understanding what was happening.  
  
Abigail stepped up to the bed and immediately reached for a wet cloth. "Oh, Hope," she sighed, helping her friend sit up on the bed. Vin stood back unsure of what to do. "Vin, child," Abby looked at the boy, knowing he was worried, and continued, "go out to the creek and fetch me a pail of cold water…can you do that?" She waited until he nodded his head and watched at he quickly rushed from the cabin.  
  
Abby sighed, looking at her friend. Putrid fever, she hung her head in hopelessness. Quickly, she helped Hope get out of her filthy clothing and changed her into a nightshirt. The cramping would get worse through the night, and the bleeding wouldn't stop.  
  
Vin rushed back in with the pail full of water. His pant legs were soaking wet and even his shoes leaked water. Abby took the pail and started soaking some cloths. She noticed Vin standing next to the bed looking worriedly at his mother. The poor child, Abigail shook her head…facing life on his own…already.  
  
Vin reached out and took his mother's hand and pulled himself up onto the edge of the bed. He didn't want to disturb her, and he didn't want to be a bother, but he needed so desperately for her to tell him everything was going to be all right.  
  
Hope looked at her son and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "Remember…you're a Tanner." She let a single tear stream down to the tip of her nose.  
  
"Oh yeah, momma." Vin sat up straighter. "Vincent Mathew Tanner," he said proudly.  
  
Hope shut her eyes but she smiled at her son's determination. She knew Abby was standing nearby and she knew that her good friend knew what was ailing her.  
  
"What's wrong with 'er, Miz Abby?" Vin turned pleading eyes to the older woman.  
  
Abigail knelt down in front of the boy and gripped his knees while he sat on the bed. "Your momma's real sick Vin, and you have to be real strong for her." She watched him nod his head. "When David gets back with the doctor I want you to go to my house for a while." Her eyes were wide with encouragement.  
  
"I can't leave 'er, Miz Abby." Vin's despair nearly broke her heart. Not willing to argue the point she simply nodded her head and busied herself and him. Hope was going to die…it was just a matter of time.  
  
******  
  
David rode up in the wagon with the doctor sitting astride his mule. The old man had refused to ride in the wagon wanting to insure he had a way home on his mule that walked slower than a lame pony. It was Abby who rushed out of the cabin and pulled the doctor from his mount. David could tell that things were bad, and he sighed at the thought. He should have gone to get the doctor first thing, but instead he went home to check on his boys and made sure everything was fine. A tear fell down David's cheek, he'd failed Mathew again.  
  
******  
  
Doctor Burns entered the cabin already knowing the prognosis wouldn't be good. He'd seen cases like these all his life and none of them ended in a good way. He ushered Abigail and Vin outside and he immediately went to work.  
  
Putrid fever wasn't an illness that killed quickly, and the doctor figured that Hope had been ill for some time…perhaps even days. Headaches, intestinal cramping, and nosebleeds were all common signs of the fever. If caught in the early stages there was sometimes hope for survival, but Hope was too ill…way too ill.  
  
Doctor Burns stepped out of the cabin and looked at the three forms. He shook his head so only Abby and David could see. Hope was dying.  
  
Abby knelt down next to Vin. "You need to come home with me," she said softly, she knew he was scared and she didn't want to scare him more.  
  
"Momma needs me," he said, while shaking his head.  
  
"No, Vin…" she didn't know how to continue. How could she say what she needed to without hurting him? "Your momma is goin' to a much better place."  
  
Vin looked at Abby with his eyes wide with fear. "Without me?" he asked, his tone barely audible.  
  
"She's goin' to be with your daddy." Abby clenched her jaw hoping Vin would understand.  
  
"I wanna go too," Vin cried, tears streaming down his cheeks and quivering chin.  
  
"You can't, Vin, not yet." Abby tried to keep the tears from falling but she was failing miserably. She turned her eyes to her husband who understood what she was asking.  
  
Vin tried to move past her but David reached down and picked him up.  
  
"It would be best if you kept the boy with you until something more suitable comes along," the doctor said coldly. "You should burn your clothing, and the boy's as well."  
  
"I have to stay with Momma," Vin cried, trying to wrestle his way out of David's arms.  
  
"Abby," David ordered, "get in the wagon. Vin…" he looked hard at the boy, "you go home with Abby. Doctor Burns and I'll take care of your momma."  
  
Vin struggled more and the tears came in full force. His breathing came quick and harsh as David walked him and Abby to the wagon.  
  
"MOMMA!" Vin screamed. "MOMMA!" he cried again, as David lifted him up into the wagon seat. "I have to stay with momma!" Abby wrapped her arms around Vin's waist as he struggled to get free. He continued to scream for his mother as the horses headed toward home.  
  
Abigail turned her focus from her husband's sad eyes, and with one arm firmly around Vin's quivering shoulders, she headed for home. It wasn't long before Vin's screams for his mother turned into heartbreaking sobs. He buried his face in Abby's shoulder and let the tears fall. It wasn't in his nature to blame anyone but himself, and deep inside he knew he'd done something to make his ma want him to leave, and it tore him up inside. He didn't understand that she was sick and dying, she didn't have a choice in leaving, but Vin's mind didn't see things that way. He blamed himself.  
  
Abby wiped the tears from her face as she rubbed Vin's back. The poor child hadn't stopped crying since they'd left. She didn't know what to say. What do you tell a five-year-old who'd just lost his mother? How do you tell them in terms that they'd understand? Vin was supposed to be out catching chickens and frogs, and scaring his mother with snakes and lizards. Now, now he was facing a life on his own. He'd never known his father, and he hadn't known his mother nearly long enough.  
  
"I didn't mean to do nothin' bad," Vin said sadly. His voice shook uncontrollably, but he held onto Abby afraid that he'd lose the only thing in his life he could hold onto.  
  
"Oh Vin," Abby sighed. She pulled the horses to a stop and maneuvered the child into her lap. "You didn't do anything wrong," she encouraged. "It was your momma's time, she didn't leave you because of anything you could have possibly done." She wiped the tears from Vin's cheeks with her thumb. "Your momma just got real sick."  
  
"I've been sick and ain't never had to leave."  
  
"Did your ma ever tell you about heaven?" Abby asked, hoping this would make things easier.  
  
"She said that's where pa's gone too."  
  
"That's where your momma's gone as well."  
  
Vin nodded, not quite understanding what was happening, but knowing his mother was gone. He remained in Abby's lap until one of her sons picked him up and carried him toward the house. Abby followed with despair in her heart.  
  
******  
  
Carefully, Abby helped Vin get his clothing off then she helped him into the hot bath. She ordered Jacob to burn all of the clothing she'd piled up. Wrapped in her housecoat she helped Vin wash his hair and then offered to cut it for him after noticing that his bangs were falling into his eyes. He simply shook his head, and that was the end of it. Using one of David's shirts, Abby helped the young man into the oversized sleepwear.  
  
Vin sat at the table pushing his food around his plate. He didn't want to be here, but he knew Abby was trying to help. The other boys had gone to bed and the room was eerily silent. Vin wiped his eyes again when waves of pain passed through his chest. His heart felt as though it weighed a ton and for some reason he couldn't stop crying. He didn't mean to jump when Abby stood up and picked him up from his seat. Wrapping his legs around her middle and his arms around her neck he wept.  
  
Abby cried as well. She walked around the room doing the only thing she could to ease this boy's pain, but it wasn't enough. The pain he was suffering from was going to last a long time. Carefully, she slid into the chair next to the Dutch oven and hummed an old hymn. She continually rubbed Vin's back and stroked his hair. It was the least she could do.  
  
******  
  
It was dawn before David arrived home and he immediately bathed and burned his clothing. Nobody in his family was going to die of putrid fever. It had torn him apart watching Hope perish from the illness. Her mind was seeing things that weren't real. Though she hadn't suffered for an extended period of time…it was long enough.  
  
He found Abigail with her arms wrapped around Vin, and the sight broke his heart. It was obvious she hadn't gotten any sleep, but she was unwilling to disturb the now sleeping boy in her arms. David gently touched the back of Vin's head then leaned over and kissed his wife.  
  
"She didn't know what was happenin' in the end." He looked hard at his wife. "It was good that we got Vin out of there when we did." He grabbed Abby's hand, and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. "Doctor Burns had me burn the cabin, and we buried Hope next to Mathew."  
  
"He didn't even get to say goodbye," she whispered, letting more tears stream down her cheeks.  
  
David brought his wife's hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "He'll get through it."  
  
Abigail nodded then turned her attention back to Vin. "Where's he gonna go?"  
  
David leaned back on his haunches and sighed. They barely had enough to feed their own family, and the drought was making things that much worse. His boys were old enough now to work hard on the land, but Vin, Vin was another mouth to feed and he wouldn't be old enough for a while to work on his own. With the boys and himself out on the farm and Luke in school, and Abby busy with the household chores, where would that leave Vin?  
  
On his own.  
  
"We'll work somethin' out," David said with conviction.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Abby looked at the small bag that held nothing more than a few pieces of clothing. It was the only thing in the world that Vin owned. There wasn't a locket from his mother, an old Bible, or even an old photograph. Everything had been burned after Hope's death. Now, David was taking Vin up north, to an orphanage. The drought had gotten worse, and the livestock was dying. Samuel, Abby's oldest son, had gone off to Austin to join up with the Rangers. The farm was dying and everyone was suffering.  
  
Sending Vin to St. Peter's orphanage wasn't their first choice. No, their first choice had been to raise him as one of their own, but things didn't work out like that. As it was they barely had enough money to make it to California. At least there they might have a chance. David promised Abby that once they were settled and had enough money, they'd send for Vin. Her heart broke at the thought of leaving him. Hope never would have allowed her son to go to an orphanage, and she never would have allowed one of Abby's children to go either.  
  
Vin sat on the bed next to his bag and looked up at Abby with the most trusting of eyes. He'd believe whatever she told him, and it crushed her knowing that. He believed he was going away for a little while and would quickly return.  
  
Abby grabbed Vin's hand and then the bag on the bed. David was waiting outside. Slowly, Vin followed, unsure of what lay ahead. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to for a little while. He was old enough now to be on his own and with a strong jaw and determined walk he would be strong.  
  
David picked Vin up and threw him onto the saddle. The boy did love to ride. David kissed his wife and jumped up into the saddle behind the boy. Abby grabbed Vin's knee and squeezed. She needed to be strong for him.  
  
"Take care, Vin, and I'll see you real soon," she said with a forced smile.  
  
"Bye Miz Abby." He waved when the horse started off toward the distant mountains.  
  
Abby covered her mouth as the tears fell. God, this hurt.  
  
******  
  
The orphanage wasn't anything more than an old church. A few children played in the yard, mostly girls. Their clothing wasn't fancy but they looked clean and well taken care of. David only hoped they were. An older man stepped out of the church wearing clothing that had been mended several different times. A wide brimmed hat hung low on his head, shadowing his eyes. He carried a broom and walked with a stiff hip, though he was unarmed he had a presence about him that demanded respect.  
  
"Mr. Donovan?" David asked, sliding off his horse. He didn't notice Vin gripping onto the saddle horn with all his might.  
  
"That'd be me," Frederick Donovan replied, stopping in front of the horse and rider.  
  
"I wrote you about young Vin Tanner, you're expectin' 'im?" It was more of a question than a statement. David didn't want to leave the boy, and he was looking for any excuse to take him home.  
  
"Ah, yes." The man nodded. "You must be Mister Hendricks."  
  
David nodded and shook the man's rough and callused hand.  
  
"You and your family's movin' to California, and you need a place for the boy?"  
  
Reluctantly, David nodded his head. "It'll only be for a short time, until we get settled and have enough money to send for 'im."  
  
"Yeah." The old man said in disbelief. He'd heard those very words time and time again. Oh, the parents usually believed they'd be back, but it never worked out that way. The children were usually dropped off, abandoned, and left for someone else to care for them. It didn't matter why; the results were always the same.  
  
Vin looked wide-eyed around the yard and church. He didn't want to stay. His mind was screaming for him to run, but how could he? He couldn't even let go of the saddle horn. He tried not to let his fear show, but his body wouldn't cooperate. His knuckles turned white, and his shoulders shook. He barely noticed when David pulled him from the saddle and handed him his bag. There wasn't anything in it that was special to him. He could leave without it. The old man standing in front of him was talking, but Vin couldn't understand a word he was saying. Everything was fuzzy, like the illustrations in the picture books his ma used to read.  
  
David kneeled in front of Vin and grasped his shoulders firmly. "You be good, and as soon as I can…I'll send for you."  
  
Vin nodded weakly. "Do I have to stay?" he asked quietly.  
  
"For a little while." David smiled. "Only for a little while." He leaned over and kissed Vin on the forehead and then quickly mounted up on his horse and sped away. He didn't want to leave, but he had to. His family needed him, and he truly intended to get Vin back.  
  
Vin looked up at the old man and cried inside. He was scary, even scarier than ol' man Peters, who used to ride up on Friday mornings checking on his mother. With a tilt of the head, Mr. Donovan motioned for Vin to enter the church. He hated this place already.  
  
******  
  
There were two rooms in the back of the old church. One was for the girls and the other for the boys. Mr. Donovan slept behind a blanket he used as a partition at the far end of the boys' room. It allowed him some privacy. There were eight beds, only three were being used at the moment, and beside each bed was a stool. Just enough space to hold something of value a book, picture, or some kind of treasure. Vin didn't have one. He placed his bag on the bed he was ordered to sleep in and looked fearfully up into Mr. Donovan's eyes. He looked so mean.  
  
"That hair's got to be cut, and you'll need a bath." His voice was deep and authoritative. "Nobody's goin' to want a child with no manners."  
  
"Miz Abby cuts my hair." Vin reached up and held his head.  
  
"Miz Abby ain't gonna cut your hair no more." The old man sighed. "Listen boy, you'll have a better chance of findin' a new home if'n you look presentable."  
  
"Mister David's comin' back to get me…he said so."  
  
"Lies boy, and it's best if you learn that now," he snapped heading towards the door. "I'll see to your bath," he called behind his shoulder, "won't have no flea ridden boys in here causin' all kinds of trouble…" he continued to mutter under his breath as he left the room.  
  
Vin stood silent alone in the room. David said he'd be back. Vin's heart sank, what if he didn't come back? What if David died like his ma did? What of Miz Abby? Vin sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his feet. Miz Abby was the only person he allowed to cut his hair. She cut it the same way his ma had. He didn't have much to hang onto, but he did have that.  
  
******  
  
The water was hotter than he liked it to be, and Vin sat in the barrel that was used as a bathtub. He tried not to move too much as the water seemed to burn his tender skin. Mr. Donovan wasn't a kind man and he roughly scrubbed the boy down, and then, as the breaking point neared, he cut Vin's hair by forcing him to sit on the table. If he didn't cooperate, he'd get paddled…again.  
  
Vin's chin quivered as he watched his hair fall to the floor. His skin still felt hot and his stomach rumbled. He wanted to go home. When the haircut was over, Vin rushed to his bed and hid under the covers. The other boys giggled and teased him.  
  
"Get to sleep!" The order came loudly from the doorway. "You've all got chores in the mornin'." The lights went out and the room once again fell silent.  
  
Vin's heart pounded in his chest as he hid himself from the world. He could hear the others whispering but he didn't care what they were saying. He was only concerned about his family. Mister David, Miz Abby, Jacob, Luke, and Samuel, he hoped they were all okay. He missed them all so much, but he was really missing his ma. It had only been a few months since she had passed but to Vin it seemed like yesterday.  
  
She'd been showing him how to shoot a rifle, and showing him how to ask a lady for a dance. He missed the hot cocoa she'd made before bedtime when it got cold out, or the way she'd wake him in the morning singing. He even missed the way she'd scold him when he did something wrong.  
  
Abby was different than Hope, she was more frail and not quite as hard. Oh, she'd lived in the west longer, but she'd had her boys around to keep her safe. Hope didn't have anyone, but she never let that stop her from doing things her way.  
  
Vin curled his toes and succumbed to the call of sleep. He figured he'd work everything out in the morning. After all, David had promised he'd come back, and Vin liked the idea of living in California. The ocean was nearby; at least that's what Abby had said. He'd like to see the ocean, and even some fish. They wouldn't be like the ones in the creek or the river. No, these would be different.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Vin hated the orphanage with a passion. The other children, many who'd been adopted out several times, were mean and beat him up every chance they had. Even the girls, and nobody came to Vin's aid when he needed help. There was only one other person there who was younger than him, and she didn't speak. She stayed by herself, and played with the dolls she'd made out of straw and clothing that she'd grown out of. Her hair was always pulled back into a ponytail, and for some reason she found it necessary to put flowers in her hair.  
  
When a potential couple came looking for a child, everyone was forced into their best clothes and made to look the part of a perfect child. For one reason or another the couples usually left without one. They're too young, too old, not cute enough, or they didn't have the right color of eyes. It didn't matter the reason, they all felt unworthy. Though, they tried not to act like it.  
  
A wagon pulled up with a gruff looking man and an older woman riding in the seat. Mr. Donovan met with the couple and then quickly ordered the children to stand at attention on the front steps of the church. Vin, with the rest of the kids, looked in anticipation at the potential parents. While the others yearned for a home, Vin was content to stay at the church and wait for David.  
  
"Children!" Mr. Donovan announced, "This is Mr. and Mrs. Kline." He introduced the couple and stood back while they inspected the children.  
  
"You," the old man said, pointing to Vin.  
  
Vin jumped when he noticed the old wrinkled finger point directly at him. He didn't want to go. Even Mr. Donovan would be better than this.  
  
"How old are you boy?" Mr. Kline asked roughly.  
  
Vin stood wide-eyed, trying to keep himself from running. "Five," he quietly responded, not knowing his sixth birthday had already passed.  
  
The old man grabbed Vin's arm and squeezed, trying to decide if the boy was strong enough to work. His wife lovingly stroked the boy's head and smiled, trying to ease his discomfort.  
  
"You ever skinned a coon or a rabbit?" Mr. Kline asked, placing his hands on his hips expecting an answer.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"What about plantin'?"  
  
Vin nodded.  
  
"Mister Donovan," the old man looked up, "we'll take this one."  
  
"No," Vin yelped. "Mister David's comin' to get me."  
  
"Boy, I done told you that he ain't. Now go get your things!" Mr. Donovan yelped, motioning for one of the older boys to go with Vin.  
  
Most of the children slumped in disappointment but they were soon consumed with other things to do. Mr. Donovan and the Kline's made arrangements for taking their new child home with them. Nobody, however, paid any attention to Vin. He didn't want to go. As a result of that fear he shook uncontrollably. How was David going to find him if he left? There wasn't even a place that he could hide. Where could he run to?  
  
Mrs. Kline, or Bea, took Vin's hand and held it tightly. She knew the boy was scared. He was shaking so hard she thought he might break. Her husband was a tough man who had lived a hard life. Though he wasn't easy to get to know he did expect things to be done the right way, and the first time. The couple had lost their own son some fifteen years ago, and had been trying to live their life on their own, but Bea wanted a child. She wanted to hear the laughter of a small voice, and she wanted to answer simple questions, and most of all she wanted someone to spend her time with.  
  
Evan wasn't a man that liked to be bored and sitting around a fire for an evening wasn't something he was willing to do. He worked hard and expected everyone around him to work just as hard. He woke up at the crack of dawn expecting his breakfast and he worked until nightfall, sometimes later. He was tired of listening to his wife wanting another person around the house. She had her knitting group, but it wasn't enough, and she made that clear to her husband. So this was Evan's solution. Finding a child for his wife to dote on, and in turn finding someone to help him with his chores. In reality it was perfect because they both got what they needed.  
  
Evan picked the boy up and sat him in the back of the wagon and then helped his wife into the front seat. It was a long ride back home and he didn't want to waste any time. He ignored the tears the small child was shedding and he crawled onto the seat next to his wife. He politely waved to Mr. Donovan and slapped the reins on the horses' rumps.  
  
Vin sat in despair watching as the church slowly disappeared from sight. His world was falling apart in so many ways. He believed David was still coming for him…he had to. He didn't even know where his mother was buried, just that she was next to his father. Vin sank further down into the corner of the wagon and wiped his eyes angrily. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.  
  
******  
  
The farm was small but full of livestock. A couple of horses nickered from the corral as the wagon drew closer. Bea smiled when she noticed the boy's interest spike at the sound. This would be the perfect place for him to learn to ride. Two dogs came rushing from beneath the front porch to greet the family chasing the chickens and ducks out of the way.  
  
Evan pulled the team to a stop and slipped off the seat and then helped his wife down. Without hesitation Bea moved to the back of the wagon and motioned for Vin to join her. He looked up unsure of what to do, but her sweet smile told him that everything would be okay. He grabbed his bag and slowly slipped out of the buckboard.  
  
Bea took Vin's bag and patted him on the shoulder. "Go see the horses, and then come inside." She smiled. "I'll fix you something for dinner and we'll get your bed ready."  
  
Vin nodded and then rushed for the corral. The big paint was eager for affection while the little chestnut stood back. Vin reached up and patted the soft white nose, which brought a smile to his face. The animal blew hard causing the boy's hair to tickle his nose, and Vin laughed softly. When he reached out and picked a handful of grass the chestnut mare stepped forward, eager for a bite. Vin smiled when he touched her nose and she didn't shy away.  
  
There was something soothing about these beasts of burden that made Vin feel less troubled. Perhaps it had to do with their size. Of course their beauty captured his imagination, and the very idea that there was so much power behind those shoulders, and their feet were so…small. Vin chuckled when the big paint nudged his shoulder wanting more attention.  
  
"You best get inside, youngin'." Evan yelled from the barn, while putting away the team of horses.  
  
Vin nodded and then gave his two new friends a quick pat on their heads and then he trotted off toward the house. He didn't want to get into trouble, so he'd do everything he could not to.  
  
******  
  
Bea smiled warmly when Vin reluctantly entered the big house. "Come in, you ain't got no reason to be afraid." She pulled weakly on his arm and showed him his room.  
  
"Mister David said he was comin' back fer me." He looked up into understanding eyes.  
  
Bea nodded: "How 'bout you stay with me and Evan while'st you wait for Mister David?" She stroked his chin and waited for a response.  
  
"How's he gonna know I'm here?"  
  
"Oh child," Bea sighed, wanting to answer these questions but couldn't. "I'll pen a letter to Mister Donovan so's he can give it to Mister David when he come's lookin' for you." She smiled when the boy nodded his head in approval. "Now your room ain't much but that's up to you to fix."  
  
Vin nodded and looked around the meagerly furnished room. A heavy quilt was on the bed with a large pillow. Slippers rested by the nightstand. A shelf was hung above the headboard, nothing was on it at the moment but that was Bea's plan. That shelf was for Vin, and he needed to decide what went on it. A small dresser leaned against the far wall with a lantern resting atop. Vin couldn't believe it. He'd never had a room of his own, even when he was with his ma. Of course he didn't mind sharing, but this was something new.  
  
"You like it?" Bea asked, slightly concerned.  
  
Vin nodded in stunned silence. "I ain't never had no room of my own 'fore." He released Bea's hand and walked over to the bed. "My ma and me just shared the big bed we had and at Mister David's I just slept in Samuel's ol' bed."  
  
"This is your room now." Bea smiled again and helped Vin unpack his bag. "Evan…he's a bit hard to get to know, but once you get past that mean 'ol mug of his," her smile increased, "he's a puppy underneath."  
  
Vin nodded, still unsure of his surroundings. "Are you gonna leave to?"  
  
Bea sat on the bed and watched as this boy continued to ask her these tough questions. "No, child, I ain't gonna leave," she responded truthfully. She watched as Vin nodded his head.  
  
Vin shrugged his shoulders, unsure of that statement. It seemed everyone he knew was leaving and he didn't understand why.  
  
"I'll get some supper goin', you get unpacked and we'll talk later." Bea reached out and planted a kiss on the top of Vin's head. She didn't notice him tense or his sigh in relief when she closed the door.  
  
******  
  
Vin sat astride Rose, the chestnut mare he'd gotten to know so well, and watched as Evan finished the fence. Though it had been a year since he'd left the orphanage, he still hadn't heard anything from David or Abigail. He tried not to lose hope but the more time that passed the more he did. Evan and Bea had told him repeatedly that moving a family to such a place as California took a lot of time and hard work.  
  
Evan had showed Vin how to ride a horse on his own, and Rose was the perfect mount for him. Though shy at first, she grew affectionate to the young man and they quickly became friends. He also showed Vin how to trap and hunt raccoons, coyotes, and deer; anything that could put a meal on the table and supply furs to the traders.  
  
Indian raids weren't all that uncommon and one of the first things Vin learned how to do was hide, if they couldn't find him they couldn't hurt him. Evan had even given him a mean looking knife to use for not just protection, but for a means of survival as well. This was a rough country and nobody knew that better than the Klines.  
  
Rose tossed her head trying to loosen the reins just enough to grab the bite of grass that was just within reach. Vin let her. He held the carcass of the badger he and Evan had shot earlier and he looked intently at the colorings. The animal didn't look mean, with a small black nose and dark eyes, but Vin knew they could be. The dog, Taffy, had gotten in a fight with one not too long ago and was still trying to recover. Vin could understand how the long claws could scratch. Bea's cat, Princess, had scratched him enough. Now, that was a mean animal.  
  
"You ready?" Evan called, waking Vin from his momentary reverie.  
  
Vin nodded, and waited until Evan was mounted on his paint. They rode back to the house in silence, listening only to the sounds of birds, hooves hitting rocks, and bits clanking against teeth. The summer had arrived with force and thankfully brought with it rain. While the crops flourished so did the animals and that meant more money for not just the farmers but the trappers and hunters as well.  
  
Evan helped Vin dismount then slapped him gently on his fanny. "Go help your ma with supper," he ordered, not realizing what he'd said.  
  
Vin had been racing for the house as soon as his feet had hit solid earth. He wanted to show Bea the badger they'd shot, but he stopped suddenly when he heard Evan refer to Bea as his mother. He looked back at Evan, who was unsaddling the horses, and sighed. Vin watched as his 'friend' ran a weary hand over his face then quickly shook his head. Vin didn't understand what was going on, but he did know that Bea wasn't his ma.  
  
"I meant, go help 'Bea' with supper," Evan quickly recovered, taking a deep breath while he tried to finish his work.  
  
Vin nodded, then rushed for the house.  
  
Bea jumped when the front door flew open. Immediately, she grabbed her chest and started to giggle, for someone so small Vin did know how to make an entrance. He held proudly in his hands the black and gray body of a badger that had obviously lost the battle with Evan's rifle.  
  
"Mister Evan helped me shoot it!" Vin smiled proudly.  
  
"Goodness," Bea sighed, looking at the animal. "We'll be eatin' that beast for a week." She took the dead carcass and placed it outside near the door so Evan could clean and prep it when he got a chance. "You need a bath." She smiled, noticing Vin slump his shoulders. "Get some clean clothes and you can bathe in the creek out back."  
  
Vin nodded, that wasn't so bad. He rushed passed Bea and into his room then rushed back out with his arm full of clean clothes. The boy had way too much energy. Bea sighed, watching him go.  
  
Evan entered in just as Vin sped by him heading to the creek. The older man just shook his head. The boy had been up since dawn and was still going.  
  
"I'll feed the meat of that badger to the dogs," Evan said, shaking his head. "He's so full of bullets we'll die of lead poisonin' before ol' age." He slipped his boots off and ran his hand through his graying hair. Without looking up at his wife he continued, "I referred to ya as Vin's ma today." His voice was quiet and full of sorrow. "Thought I'd let you know before he asked ya 'bout it."  
  
Bea looked hard at her husband. He never talked about their son's death. She figured it was because it hurt too much. And it did. She nodded her head in understanding, she wouldn't push her husband, she knew it had been hard for him to admit what he did. For some reason they hadn't been blessed with having a child grow up in their home…until now. She didn't know why, and she tried not to question God about their son's death. But at times like this that old pain resurfaced.  
  
"I love 'im too, Evan." Bea smiled, and then continued with supper.  
  
Evan gently kissed his wife on the cheek then headed back out to clean and skin the badger. It was the tough times that made them realize what they had in each other. Vin had done nothing more than act like a seven year old boy and put his trust in them. There was no harm in that. When they went to that orphanage they weren't sure what they were looking for, but they knew when they saw him. Evan tried to act tough and strong, wanting more of a farm hand than a son, but he got the latter. When Evan saw Vin rush past him and into the house he just chuckled. One minute that boy was sitting so still a cat wouldn't see him and the next he was running around like a wild colt.  
  
Bea jumped again when the door burst open and Vin appeared at her side with a smile so wide it lit up the room and his eyes so bright she thought he'd swallowed the sun.  
  
"What'cha got there?" she asked, noticing he held something in his hands.  
  
"I found it by the crick," Vin responded happily.  
  
"Oh, heavens," Bea gasped, "child that's a skunk." She started him toward the door.  
  
"But it's just a baby, Bea, it won't stink none." Vin held the animal next to his chest.  
  
"You're supposed to bring me snakes and frogs an' such, not…skunks." She chuckled, daring herself to take a closer look.  
  
Vin held the tiny critter out so she could see it better. "I named it Tiny, cuz he's so small."  
  
"That's a real fine name." Bea couldn't believe there was a skunk in her home. Granted it was just a baby, but she'd smelled the results of one of those 'babies' on her dogs.  
  
"Can I keep 'im?"  
  
Bea looked into those desperate blue eyes and she couldn't say no. He'd never asked for anything before, so how could she deny him this? "Why don't you go and ask Evan?" Bea smiled; she knew her husband wouldn't be able to tell him no either.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
David Hendricks climbed out of the stagecoach and took a deep breath. That sweet Texas smell filled his senses, and for a moment he was home. The sound of his bag hitting the boardwalk after being thrown from the stage brought him out of his moment of reflection. He was here to see his son, and to find Vin. He'd wanted to come sooner but Abby had gotten ill and he had refused to leave her side until she was better. So, after months of hard work he was finally able to leave his wife, at her request, and find Vin.  
  
"PA!" Samuel yelled, rushing through the crowd of people.  
  
"Samuel," David cried, embracing him warmly. "What's all the excitement about?" He asked, shocked by the amount of people bustling in the streets.  
  
"Indians," came the simple reply. "How's ma?"  
  
David smiled and slapped his son's shoulder. It was good to see him again. They talked all through dinner, Samuel about his job as a Ranger, and David about the new farm and the family. They talked well into the night, and David realized his son had grown into a well-respected man. His mother would be proud.  
  
When Samuel offered to ride to the orphanage with David to help find Vin it was the perfect ending to a perfect day. David's family would be complete; it was just a matter of time.  
  
******  
  
Evan raced from the barn his rifle in hand. "BEA!" he yelled. "BEA!..VIN!"  
  
Vin raced out from behind the house where he'd been stacking wood and immediately he saw what Evan was so concerned about. A band of Indians was racing toward the house. Clouds of dust seemed to envelop the running horses. Evan grabbed Vin under his arms and ran for the house.  
  
Bea was already loading the pistols when Evan entered the house with Vin. It didn't matter why the Indians were on a rampage. The only thing that mattered was protecting the homestead. Evan just wanted to farm his land and be left alone. He didn't care that the Indians were being forced off their lands. It wasn't he that was pushing them.  
  
"Bea, you and Vin get hid," Evan ordered, looking out the window.  
  
"I can shoot," Vin offered, trying to wiggle his way out of Bea's arms.  
  
"Do what I say," Evan snapped. He turned worried eyes to his wife. "Get!"  
  
Bea nodded her head and grabbed Vin's arm. Together they opened the hidden door to the cellar, and disappeared. Vin hid in the far corner where it was the darkest. He hated it down here but it was the safest place to be and he knew it. He could hear the screams of horses, shots being fired, and glass shattering.  
  
Vin's heart started racing…Tiny…his pet skunk was up there someplace. Suddenly, Bea threw a blanket over his shoulders and tucked him further back into the corner.  
  
"You stay here Vin, and don't you come out till I tell you." Bea grabbed his chin and looked at him hard, her brown eyes hidden in the shadows. "Promise me."  
  
"I can help…"  
  
"Promise me," she ordered again.  
  
"I promise."  
  
Bea grabbed Vin's shoulders and gave them a strong squeeze. "I love you child," she said, then kissed him on the top of his head.  
  
Vin listened as Bea's feet patted up the stairs and then the door to the cellar closed. All was dark. He could hear everything happening outside and he wanted very much to be up there helping, but he'd promised Bea he'd stay. The verbal acknowledgement of Bea telling him she loved him surprised the boy. Not because he hadn't felt her affection towards him, but because he wasn't sure if he felt the same about her. She wasn't his mother, and nobody would be able to take her place. However, Vin did admire Bea and Evan. They had taken him in and given him a place to call home. He wanted to love them, but he had to protect himself and part of that was keeping his heart well guarded.  
  
******  
  
Minutes seemed like hours, or was it the other way around. Vin didn't know. He hadn't heard anything in quite some time and it bothered him because Bea was supposed to come and get him. The faint light that had been coming through the floorboards was gone and a chill had set into his bones. The blanket Bea had covered him with did little to keep out the cold. Funny, how it could be so chilly during the summer months. The walls of the cellar seemed to close in on Vin and the darkness only added to his fear.  
  
Slowly, Vin crept out of his hiding place and started for the stairs. Using his hands to guide him, he finally managed to find the steps. His only thought was finding Bea and Evan. He hoped he wouldn't get into trouble for venturing out, but he couldn't stay in the cellar any more.  
  
Vin pushed on the cellar door that exited into the kitchen with all his might. Finally, the chair that had been positioned on the access panel fell and he emerged. The sun was making its decent over the horizon. Vin looked around, surprised at the devastation. The windows were shattered, and the furniture had been ransacked. Clothing was spread sporadically around the rooms, dishes had been broken, and most of the food was gone. Vin took a step toward the door, unsure of what to do. Should he call out? Should he simply wait?  
  
Fear crept up Vin's spine like an unwelcome guest. He heart raced and his palms grew sweaty as he headed for the door. He didn't know a lot about Indians, just that he was supposed to leave them alone. He didn't understand the politics involved; after all, he was only seven. Vin's throat constricted when he saw the devastation outside. Both dogs had been killed, and they rested next to the corral looking as though they were sleeping. The horses and cattle were gone, and only a few live chickens remained.  
  
Vin rushed forward when he saw a hint of Evan's blue shirt just inside the barn doors. Panic-stricken, he didn't know what to do. He'd found Evan. Rushing to his side; Vin fell to his knees and touched the man's shoulder. He understood the red stains on the once bright blue shirt, and he understood why Evan's eyes stared blankly at the sky. But he didn't understand why this had happened.  
  
"Mister Evan," Vin whispered. He touched Evan's shoulder, searching for a response…hoping for something. Hesitantly, Vin touched the grizzled cheek and found it unnaturally cool. He looked around the empty barn and slowly stood up. What was he going to do? He had to find Bea, she'd know.  
  
When Tiny snuck out of his hiding place, Vin cried in relief. He picked the frightened animal up and started searching for Bea. He found her, not far from Evan. Her favorite green dress was covered in blood and dirt. She still had the rifle grasped in her hands. A thin layer of dust had covered her warm features as she lay on her back facing the departing sun.  
  
Vin knew in his heart that she was gone. He didn't understand why, he just knew she was. Her body was still here, but not working. Unlike the animals he'd helped Evan hunt these deaths cut him deep. Vin sat down beside her and laid his hand on her face. Tiny nestled down in his boy's lap, wanting nothing more than to be comforted. A soft wind picked up and Vin rubbed his eyes. He was scared, terrified really, and unsure of what to do next, so he simply stayed with Bea.  
  
******  
  
Jake McAllen, or Soup, as he was more commonly known, led his old pack mule down the barren road. His mining equipment hung vicariously from the packsaddle clanging with every step Penny took. He'd been on the road for quite some time searching for a new place to call home. He scratched his beard and cupped his hand over the brim of his hat enabling him to see further into the distance. The early morning sun was up and already causing the back of his neck and shoulders to sweat.  
  
He saw the farm up ahead and decided to ask if he could water Penny and rest in the shade before moving on. He hoped the landowners wouldn't mind. Though he'd replenished his stock at the last town, water was always a need.  
  
As he got closer to the farm he knew something was amiss. Crows had gathered at the top of the barn roof, and there weren't any animals in the corrals. He saw the two dogs lying dead next to the corral gate, and the arrows and bullet holes that penetrated their bodies. Soup shook his head. The Indians had been raiding farms and ranches all over the territory. Though only on rare occasions was someone killed, but the fear was still very real.  
  
"Hello!" Soup called, hoping to find someone.  
  
It was the sound of a child crying that caused the older man to walk out past the barn. There, he found a child sitting in the dirt next to a body. It was obvious the boy had been trying to dig a grave. A large mound of dirt had been dug and piled not far from the pair.  
  
"Hey," Soup said, in a low gentle tone. He didn't want to startle the boy.  
  
Vin turned red eyes up and looked at the haggard stranger.  
  
"That your ma?"  
  
Vin shook his head and turned his attention back to Bea.  
  
Soup took another step forward. He took a closer look at the boy's hands and sighed. Bloody, blistered, and bruised hands held desperately onto the tiny delicate fingers of the woman. Not knowing what else to do, Soup picked up the shovel and started digging.  
  
******  
  
By the time Bea and Evan were finally laid to rest the afternoon sun beat down with a vengeance. Soup did his best at making some simple crosses, just enough to soothe the boy's pain.  
  
"What's your name son?" Soup asked, hoping the boy would say something. He hadn't uttered a word to him since he'd arrived.  
  
"Vin," came the soft reply.  
  
"Well, Vin, how about you lettin' me clean up your hands and gettin' somethin' in your stomach?"  
  
Vin just nodded, to stunned to do anything more. Soup, not familiar with children of any kind, picked the boy up and started walking towards the house. Vin fell asleep before he could feel cold water on his wounded hands, or his dirty face. Soup laid him on a bed in one of the rooms then set about cooking a small meal. He'd stay here the night and then head back out in the morning…taking the boy with him.  
  
******  
  
St. Peter's Orphanage hadn't changed in the year since David had last seen it. A few children still played in the yard, while the older children repaired the picket fence around the small cemetery behind the church. The older man, Mr. Donovan, worked diligently on the front steps repairing a leather harness.  
  
Samuel dismounted and took his and his father's horse's reins. He stood back not wanting to interfere with what his father had to do. He watched and waited from a distance.  
  
"Mr. Donovan," David called, walking up to the man he'd left Vin with not one year before.  
  
Fredrick looked up from his task and quickly smiled. Perhaps someone was looking to adopt a child. "What can I do for you?" he asked politely.  
  
"I'm here about Vin Tanner, the boy I left in your care 'bout a year back." David rolled the brim of his hat in his hands nervously. "I'd like to take 'im home."  
  
Donovan scratched his head and sighed. "I ain't got no one here by that name. You say you dropped him here a year back?"  
  
"Yes sir, my name's David Hendricks…"  
  
"Oh yes, as I remember young Vin was adopted out not long after your partin'." Donovan explained. This was an orphanage, not a home for the homeless.  
  
"Do you know where he's at?" An all too familiar pain resurfaced.  
  
"Listen, Mr. Hendricks, I see a lot of kids go through here and I can't be expected to remember every one, now…"  
  
"Don't you have records or documents?" David pleaded.  
  
Fredrick sighed, paperwork. "I'll see if I have anythin'." He stood up abruptly and headed inside the old church, leaving David to wait in apprehension.  
  
It was only moments, before Mr. Donovan reappeared with a letter in hand. Though he didn't appear happy, he was relieved to find some link to Vin.  
  
"It was Evan and Beatrice Kline that adopted your boy," Donovan said, handing the letter over.  
  
"I can't thank you enough," David said happily.  
  
Mr. Donovan nodded and watched as the two men remounted their steeds and rode away. Shaking his head he turned back to the harness.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Vin woke to the smell of bacon and eggs frying. Unsure of where he was at the moment he took a long deep breath and looked quietly around the room. His room. The door to the kitchen was open and he could see the same man from yesterday walking back and forth cooking a meal. Slowly, Vin threw the covers off his legs and stood up. Handkerchiefs were used as dressings over his tiny hands and for that he was grateful. He noticed his fingers were still red and swollen as he peaked under the bandages.  
  
His chest still hurt, but for some unknown reason his tears were dry. In stocking feet he entered the kitchen and looked at the man who was trying to cook breakfast. Though the face was familiar he still didn't know who this stranger was, or why he was here.  
  
"Good mornin' young fella," came the rough deep voice. "Why don't you set yourself down and we'll eat some food." He motioned for the chair.  
  
Vin looked curiously around the room. Everything was still damaged and misplaced, but the stranger had replaced the table and chairs. He watched the man intently as he dumped the eggs and a few pieces of bacon onto a tin plate.  
  
"My name's Jake but you can call me Soup."  
  
"Soup ain't a name, it's a food," Vin replied, sitting at the table.  
  
"Yes sir, it is, but that's how I earned my name. See, durin' the war I was a line cook for the soldiers an' they all started callin' me Soup cuz of the way I cooked it." He seated himself at the table and started eating his meal. "Those folks that we buried yesterday…was they your family?"  
  
"They took me in from the orphanage."  
  
Soup nodded, and took another bite of eggs. "Well, I can't leave you here by your lonesome. I may be an old coot but I know that."  
  
"Can you take me to Mister David?" Vin's eyes widened.  
  
"I don't know who this David is, but once we get to town we'll see what we can do." He watched as the boy nodded his head in acceptance, still, no smile appeared. "You best clean your plate, we got a long day ahead."  
  
"Yes sir," Vin replied, picking up his fork.  
  
******  
  
One of the hardest things Vin had to do was leave Tiny at the creek where he'd found him. For some reason the little skunk refused to be associated with a mule and after a brief argument between Vin and Soup, Tiny was left behind. The old man assured Vin that the tiny polecat would survive the wild; after all, that's where he came from.  
  
Vin packed what he could in the same small bag he'd arrived at the farm with. Only this time he had things in it that meant more to him. The knife Evan had given him was tucked into his belt. He packed the small collection of wooden carvings that he and Evan had done together, and he packed the small gold broach that Bea had given him after she found him looking in awe at it. It had meant a lot to him that these people had taken him in like they had and given him a warm home, his own room, and a place to belong.  
  
He looked back at the house as he, Penny, and Soup headed out toward the distant mountains. His life seemed to be forever changing, and for the first time he faced it without tears. There was no use crying anymore, it hurt too much. Soup was nice enough, but like the rest of them…he'd leave.  
  
Vin was learning early that life wasn't a constant. Things always changed, and he was realizing he didn't have any control over it.  
  
******  
  
David spotted the farm in the distance and took off at a gallop. His son followed close behind. It was the gathering of crows and vultures that had their attention alerted. David flew off his saddle before his horse came to a complete stop. The two dogs had started to bloat and flies had taken up residence around their wounds, eyes and noses.  
  
"HELLO!" David called franticly looking around the homestead. "ANYONE!"  
  
Samuel slipped off his mount and looked around at the devastation. He knew by the look of things that they wouldn't find anyone alive. At least he hoped they wouldn't. He quickly joined up with his father looking for something. They weren't even sure if they had the right place.  
  
It only took a few minutes to discover the graves. Two, lying side by side, there were no names, just roughly made crosses.  
  
"Where is he?" David asked under his breath.  
  
"Looks like Apache," Samuel responded to a question that was never asked. He fingered the broken arrow knowingly and then looked back to his father. "He's not here."  
  
"What am I goin' to tell Abby?" David ran his hand over his face. "I never should have left 'im."  
  
"The way I see it," Samuel paused, collecting his thoughts, "you can tell ma one of two things…"  
  
"Which is what?" David snapped. "He was taken by Indians."  
  
"If he was taken by those Indians…you don't want 'im back." Samuel's eyes got cold and hard, his stance moved from support to a knowing defense.  
  
David looked at his son in surprise. Yes, so much had changed. He didn't want to think about Vin being raised by savages, or worse. "What do I tell 'er?" He asked softly.  
  
"Tell 'er he died…or tell 'er you couldn't find 'im."  
  
David looked painfully at the horizon. How could he lie to his wife? He knew it would crush her if he told her the truth, and he couldn't bear to watch that. Reluctantly, he nodded his head. "What have I done?" He asked himself. "What have I done?"  
  
******  
  
The town of Cedar Falls bustled with activity. It rested just north of the New Mexico Territory. No longer were Vin and Soup in Texas. Wagons and surreys moved up and down the streets, while the swirl of horses and patrons caused the dust to circulate.  
  
Vin celebrated his eighth birthday, not knowing it had passed. Bea and Evan had celebrated his, sixth or seventh, not knowing for sure which, during the fall, but that was all Vin could remember about it. He didn't remember the day, or the significance it was just another day.  
  
After reaching the first town they came across Soup decided he'd try Cedar Falls. That was seven months ago. There wasn't anything in Apple Grove that could care for a child, except a whorehouse, and even though they had offered to take the boy, Soup refused. He knew how hard it was growing up in one of those places and Vin wasn't a hard kid to get along with. In the matter of fact he was pretty helpful, a damn fine shot, and quiet. They were all things a child should be. Soup didn't know hardly anything about kids, other than the fact he'd been one…once. Granted it had been a long time ago but he figured he could do a decent job of caring for the boy until something better came along. Keep Vin fed, warm, and make sure he got a good night sleep. So he did. Until, that is, he came down with a fever and a terrible cough. Soup had worried himself to death over that little incident, but Vin, in his usual manner, came out of it with no problems.  
  
Vin's stomach growled when the sweet smell of food hit his senses. He looked at the restaurant and bit his lip. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and he didn't want to ask Soup for anything, it wasn't in his nature to ask for anything. They were running low on supplies and until they restocked…he could wait.  
  
Soup helped the boy off the back of Penny and told him to wait while he went searching for a place to stay. Vin held onto Penny's lead and sat next to the water trough. He looked wildly about the town. People from all walks of life filled the street. Women in fancy dresses, cowboys with their guns hanging off their hips, and children playing in the side alleys.  
  
It was only a moment before Soup returned with a smile on his face. He took Penny's lead and started for the livery with Vin following close behind.  
  
"We'll put Penny here away and see to gettin' somethin' to eat," Soup said with a smile.  
  
Things were looking up. The past winter had been hard on everyone and the spring months brought with it rain, and a green landscape. The Indian trouble had died down, for the time being, and most people were getting on with their lives.  
  
******  
  
In all realities, Soup couldn't keep Vin with him much longer. The boy had the right to an education, a family, and the right to grow up in a home, not on the trail. Soup would be forever, walking the land, staking a claim in one place to the next, and going where the wind took him. He couldn't ask this boy to do the same.  
  
When Soup went to speak with the pastor of the local church he learned of a couple looking for a child. They had lost their own son some two years before due to fever and hadn't been able to have anymore. They were new in the area and had purchased a farm on the outskirts of town. Vin would fit in nicely.  
  
John and Helen Turner, at the request of Pastor Bailey, agreed to meet with Soup and Vin. They were young and ready to take on the world. John seemed nice, but there was something in his voice that caused the hair on the back of Vin's neck to stand up. He was a tall man that wore his clothing with pride. He stood tall and his dark hair was cut short, almost next to his scalp. Helen was a small woman and like her husband valued her appearance. Her hair was perfectly done, and her dress was immaculately clean, even the hem.  
  
Vin took a step closer to Soup as John turned his eyes to him and smiled. He knew that Soup had to leave him, and he even understood why. But it was still hard. He liked Soup, granted he was a little bit strange, always talking to Penny like she were a real person. He sang songs that didn't have a real meaning, almost like he was making them up as they treaded forward, and he always laughed with his whole being.  
  
"…and he's a real hard worker," Soup said, grabbing Vin's shoulder proudly.  
  
"I could use some help on the land," John said, looking the boy over. "I just feel that this is too soon, we just lost Peter."  
  
Helen grabbed her husband's hand. "How old are you son?"  
  
Vin shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. He really didn't know, besides, what did it matter?  
  
"Seven or eight by the looks of him," John responded. The boy was a bit thin, he needed a hair cut, and a bath, and he needed to learn some manners.  
  
Vin looked from Soup to the couple contemplating taking him. Is this what his life was going to be like? Moving from one place to the next.  
  
"We'll take the child," John said softly. His wife smiled and nodded her head.  
  
Vin's shoulders slumped. He felt Soup give him a quick squeeze. "The boy an' I'll retrieve his things." He nodded to the couple then directed Vin towards the door.  
  
Soup didn't want to see the boy leave, but he didn't have a choice. Vin was a good kid who needed a chance in life, and Soup couldn't offer it to him. He knew by the boy's behavior that he didn't want to leave either, but he knew he had to.  
  
"You got everything?" Soup asked, squatting down in front of Vin resting his elbows on his knees. Vin nodded. "This is for the best." Again, Vin nodded. Soup stuck his hand out and shook Vin's hand like he would an equal and the boy responded with a smile.  
  
******  
  
Vin waved goodbye from the back of the wagon. He was trying to be strong. He should have known from the start that his life wasn't what he wanted it to be. If it were, he'd still be home with his ma, drinking some hot chocolate and enjoying a story by the fire. But things hadn't worked out like that. He looked forward up the road when the wagon moved out of sight of the town and Vin could no longer see Soup waving. Things were changing once again and he knew he had to make the best of it…he had to.  
  
Chapter 6  
  
John and Helen Turner weren't hard people, just difficult. The house they lived in was a reflection of who they were, perfect and cold on the inside, warm and inviting on the out. John had more of a temper than Helen, and when he got mad he took it out on the person closest to him, sometimes that was Vin and other times it was his wife. When Helen got mad or angry it was her words that stung, not the slap of her hand. Vin, never having had an education, was constantly reminded that the people he had cared about most in his life were nothing more than gratified savages.  
  
Vin remained quite, talking only when instructed to. He worked hard and never complained, it wasn't in his nature. He not only anticipated a beating, he accepted it as part of his routine. A black eye here and there, it was expected. He learned quickly to cherish his time alone, and silence was the best response…too anything.  
  
******  
  
Helen watched as Vin finished his plate of food. John was still working on his steak. The tension in the house was still high. Grain prices were down and because of it, John had taken his frustration out on his family. He'd wanted to build a new barn for the livestock with that extra money, and now he couldn't.  
  
"Did you get the wood stacked?" John's voice cut through the air like a hot knife.  
  
"Yes sir," Vin answered, laying his fork on his plate. He was finished.  
  
"What about cleaning out the barn?" John looked up and met Vin's eyes.  
  
"I wanted him to help me in the garden," Helen answered, setting her napkin on the table.  
  
"That barn needed to get done," he snapped. "Mr. Palmer is bring his cattle over tomorrow to have them serviced and I can't have him seeing a dirty barn!" His angry voice continued to slice through the air. "How is this farm going to make it?"  
  
"I'll do it tonight," Vin interjected, not wanting John's anger to escalate.  
  
A callused hand hit the table with a blunt force, and the whole room went quiet. Helen sat back in her seat waiting. Vin unconsciously jumped, already hurting from the pain that would come.  
  
"We'll both do it," John snapped, wiping his face with his napkin and then throwing it on the table. "Now!"  
  
Vin scooted out of his seat and rushed for the barn. He knew what was coming and he didn't want to make it any worse. Helen remained seated until her husband left the house with the lantern. She regretted not being able to help, but she couldn't.  
  
******  
  
Vin grabbed the pitchfork and threw it into the wheel barrel then headed inside the dark barn. A few of the horses nickered when they heard the doors open and the barn owl quickly disappeared out of the open hayloft. Using only the distant light of the moon, Vin started cleaning the first empty stall. He saw the lantern light and knew it was John. Preparing for the inevitable, Vin took a deep breath and tensed his back.  
  
John entered the barn and hung his lantern from the support beam. He was angry, disappointed, and in essence, out of control. He knew the importance of doing what you were told; he lived by it, only now he was the one doing the telling. He expected others to do it as well, without question. A farm couldn't run without proper care and attention, he knew that, his son had known that, why didn't Vin?  
  
John grabbed the other pitchfork and started working. The barn needed to be cleaned tonight, no exceptions. Every time the wheel barrel was filled Vin was ordered to take it out. The boy was working so hard he disregarded his hands and the blisters that were already forming. John didn't bother to check on him, after all this should have been done earlier in the day and if it had been they both could be enjoying their beds.  
  
Vin set his pitchfork down and got ready to take the last trip with the wheel barrel out of the barn. John followed closely behind him. Vin didn't see the rock until it was too late. He and the wheel barrel fell to the ground in a tangled mess. John stopped and clenched his fists. He was done with this. In one fluid motion he grabbed Vin by the arm and pulled him up then struck him across face with a forceful punch. The boy landed hard on the ground and quickly started moving away from another attack. He wasn't big enough to fight, and truthfully, he was afraid of John. Vin could feel blood running down his chin and he covered his face with his arms as his attacker went for another strike. This time the blow landed hard on his shoulder and quickly he was pulled back up onto his feet before being thrown into the stall panels.  
  
"I've had it with you boy!" John snapped, picking up the pitchfork he'd just discarded. He watched Vin cower into the fence. "You ain't worth nothing to nobody…No wonder everyone up and leaves you." John turned the wheel barrel up onto his wheelbase and then started shoveling the dirty straw back into it.  
  
"When I say to get something done I want it done…no matter what." He looked back to Vin who had yet to move. "You understand me?"  
  
"Yes sir," came the soft-spoken reply.  
  
John shook his head in disgust and headed for the house, leaving Vin lying next to the stall. There wasn't anything the boy could do except watch the retreating form. Slowly, he wiped his chin free of the blood and stood up on shaky legs. He refused to cry, it never did him any good. His shoulder hurt where John had hit him, and his elbows where scratched up from hitting the stall panels. Vin ran a hand over his face and sighed, he didn't want to stay here.  
  
Vin picked up the handles to the wheel barrel and took it out to dump it. It was late and the moon was the only light guiding his way. There was only one lantern glowing in the house and Vin figured it was Helen and John getting ready for bed. When the barrel was emptied, Vin headed for the house. He tried to be quiet not wanting to disturb anyone. Morning would come soon enough; he didn't need to be punished for waking everyone.  
  
He could see a bruise on his shoulder as he took his shirt off. It was already swelling and turning a deep purple. His elbows were abraded, red, scratched, and his lip had been split. He made the determination at that moment that as soon as he was able, he'd leave. This time however, he would be the one naming the when, the where, and the how. Nobody would force him out, and nobody would ever make that decision for him again. He'd survive the beatings, the belittling, and even the false accusations about his family. His only desire now, was to leave.  
  
******  
  
As the years went by Vin grew quickly and filled out like his father before him. Though he never knew his father, he did remember what his mother had said about him. Her voice seemed to echo in his mind when he thought hard enough about her, or when he saw something that reminded him of her. He couldn't remember her face, or the color of her eyes, but he did remember the sound of her voice. It had been soft and warm. He missed her subtle confidence, and her independent strength.  
  
The Turners never warmed up to him, and for some reason Vin felt as though they saw him as an unacceptable replacement for their son. Vin knew he wasn't, his parents had already passed, and he didn't want anymore. He was simply looking for a tolerable existence. He tried hard, worked hard, and did everything he could to make things right, but it was never enough. Perhaps, nothing would ever be enough.  
  
Vin was fourteen and it was time to move on. It was hard enough living in the New Mexico Territory with a war raging in the South, without the complications of his life here at the Turner ranch. He'd spent most of his time working in the fields, working the horses, and hunting for winter meat. The latter was what he had enjoyed the most. Being alone on the land and with his thoughts. His accuracy had improved a tremendous amount and he'd been true to his mother's word. He could shoot the center out of a coin. Knowing that, made his heart sing, and he knew that if she were able, she'd be smiling down on him from above.  
  
He'd managed to make extra money by trapping furs and the first thing on his list to purchase was a horse and saddle. The rest, if and when he needed, would come later. It was Helen who had purchased Vin his long rifle. She had done it behind John's back. The weapon wasn't fancy but it was suffice and Vin used it every time he went out on a hunt. Like his knife given to him by Evan, the rifle was his best friend.  
  
******  
  
Vin finished packing up his bag and he took one last look around his room. Today was the day. He was leaving. The sun had yet to rise, he wanted to leave before anyone awoke. Helen knew he was going, she didn't know when, just that he was. Carefully, he opened and closed the bedroom door then snuck down the hall. Everyone was still asleep. With his bag on his back, his rifle in hand, and money in his pocket he headed out the front door. The warm air hit him like a new friend. The wind was calling his name and he wasn't willing to fight it.  
  
Vin didn't looked back at the house or the farm as he headed at a walk off the property. Town was only a few miles away and he knew the livery would have a horse that he could buy. From there, he shrugged his shoulders, what did it matter what he did from there, as long as it was someplace different.  
  
******  
  
"He's a work horse," Ian, the livery owner said, leaning against the corral rails. "He ain't the prettiest beast out here, but he'll get'cha where you goin'."  
  
Vin looked the lean bay over again. The animal was sound and carried himself well. He had a bit of a roman nose but his wise eyes made up for it. "How much?"  
  
"Thirty dollars and…" Ian smiled, "I'll throw in the saddle."  
  
Vin nodded his head in agreement. The price was fair, and thankfully he'd earned enough with his furs. Slowly, Vin slipped through the corral railings and walked up to the big gelding. The animal nudged his shoulder and stood still while his new owner looked him over. Teeth, bone structure, and soundness were the main things Vin was looking for. Evan had told him all about horseflesh and what to look for. Even John had taught him a little.  
  
"I'll take 'im," Vin said, from across the fence. He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of dollar coins, then handed thirty over to Ian.  
  
"I'll go get your equipment." Ian clutched the money in his fist then headed for the barn.  
  
Vin chuckled when his new horse nudged his shoulder. He grabbed the halter and headed for the gate when he saw the liveryman set the saddle, bridle, and pad down on the hitching rail.  
  
"What's 'is name?" Vin asked, leading the horse forward.  
  
The liveryman paused a moment: "Satan," he replied with a chuckle, before heading back inside the barn.  
  
Vin looked at his new horse and the beast shook his head in disagreement. "No offense 'Satan', but we're changin' your name." The horse nodded in agreement. "I had a skunk named Tiny once, but you ain't exactly small." Vin started saddling his new mount all the while talking to him.  
  
The liveryman watched from the barn entrance with a smile on his face. That horse had tossed more men than Miz Dolly from the brothel, but it looked as though he found himself a friend. Ian had only known Vin from when he came into town with John, and the boy had a special way about him. Everyone but John knew it. Even that dumb horse saw it, and without question, he found his new master. The only thing Vin needed to learn, was that horse picked him, he didn't pick that horse.  
  
Ian held his breath as Vin mounted up on the big bay. They were two old friends meeting for the first time. He watched them ride out of town at a gallop and he wondered what life had in store for them. It didn't matter really, as long as they followed their hearts.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
As 1864 rolled around Vin found himself enlisting in the Union army, and at seventeen he wasn't ready to face the horrors of war…or so he thought. He'd been traveling, drifting really, all over. Trying to find a place to settle down. To the shock of many men his age, he wanted to stop and raise a family. Have a child of his own, and share his life with a good woman. So far that desire hadn't happened.  
  
Vin was almost six feet tall, with a slight build. Though he wasn't as strong as many of the men he came in contact with, he was quick, and sometimes that mattered just as much. He grew his hair out so that it hung just above his shoulders, it made him easier to hide, and he knew it. Besides, he'd always hated getting his hair cut.  
  
Vin needed a change, which was why he found himself putting his mark on the Army enlistment papers. So, he couldn't read and write, those things didn't put food in his belly, or clothing on his back. The Union was looking for more able-bodied men. They wanted to put an end to this fighting, and they were learning the hard way that the Southern states wouldn't be stopped that easily. They were made up of more than fancy clothing and slaves. The South had a passion in their reasoning for fighting, and that was harder to kill than anything.  
  
There were no uniforms being disbursed, the money was needed elsewhere. However, ammunition and weapons could be found and retained at the supply tent. All new soldiers received a pistol, a rifle, and plenty of ammunition.  
  
"You got any special talents, boy?" Lt. Commander Bailey asked, walking up behind the new recruit.  
  
Vin turned and looked at the sharply dressed commander. He wasn't sure if he should salute, he hadn't been trained yet. "I can shoot. If that's what your askin'?"  
  
"How well can you shoot?"  
  
"See that pebble on that there rock," Vin said, pointing to the large bolder a ways out of camp.  
  
"Yes, I see it."  
  
Vin smiled then pointed his rifle toward the pebble. He disregarded all the noises going on around him and concentrated on that pebble. He didn't hear the bets being made, the clang of change moving from one hand to the next, or even the sound of cannon roars in the distance. With a soft finger, a strong shoulder, and a confident mind Vin pulled the trigger.  
  
Nobody moved, until Vin stood up and carefully positioned his rifle against his chest.  
  
"You didn't hit it," the commander said in disappointment. Moans and applause could be heard from behind him.  
  
"Yes, sir, I did," Vin responded confidently. He started walking toward the bolder with the commander right behind him.  
  
The commander stopped at the bolder and watched in wonder as the kid continued on for another hundred feet. There in the distance was a large bolder and he watched as this soldier with the eyes of a hawk and the skill of a veteran stood by that large rock and picked up a small stone. The commander shook his head in wonder. This kid was good.  
  
Vin held the stone out for Bailey to inspect. A large chip where the bullet had struck captured his eye. "Welcome to the 105th Missouri, sharpshooters." The commander held out his hand and smiled when the kid shook it. "Sergeant Gibson Dempsey is your CO, he'll get you outfitted."  
  
"Thank you sir."  
  
"Thank me when this war is over, son." He smiled. "Hell, with a shot like you, those Rebs are bound to turn tail and run." He slapped Vin on the back and headed for his tent.  
  
Vin stood silent as soldiers gathered around him, wanting to know how he learned to shoot like that. What was he going to tell them? That his mother had been the one to show him how to use a rifle, or Evan had made him practice until his shoulder was so bruised that it hurt to move. It didn't matter how he learned, just that he could shoot. Hell, out here, it's kill or be killed, and Vin wasn't going to lay down and die for anyone.  
  
******  
  
As a boy, Vin never had any trouble climbing trees, but he was barefoot and he didn't have a heavy sack on his back. It seemed every tree he went up, another tree heard about it and tried everything it could to keep this kid out of its branches. One minute he was getting his backpack caught, and the next he was falling hard to the ground when the branch broke. Trees were not the best place a sharpshooter could find to hide, so why did Sergeant Dempsey always order it?  
  
Mansfield, Louisiana seemed to be calling US Major General Nathaniel Prentiss Banks. The General saw fit to move onward while battles continued to rage on and men from both sides fell to their deaths only to be replaced by someone else. Confederate General Richard Taylor, the son of former President Zachary Taylor, had backed into Mansfield and refused to move further. He stood by his men and waited. They would not leave. Banks' sharpshooters were positioned carefully around the Louisiana town. Banks would not lose this fight.  
  
Vin looked out toward the town, he was stationed high in the dense forest. This was beautiful country. Rolling green hills and pine trees for as far as the eye could see. For a sharpshooter, finding targets after the battle started was futile. Smoke, gunfire, and dust filled the air bringing the visibility down to nothing. On April 8th, the battle started. Horses screamed, cannons roared, and men cried for their mothers. It could all be heard, watching it only made it worse.  
  
Slowly, Vin descended the tree, his last hideout and started searching for his horse. The big bay, Gus, was as devoted to Vin as Vin was to him. They were never very far from each other. With a loud whistle Gus came trotting. His big feet plodding the ground like a posthole tamper. In one swift move Vin mounted up and headed to where he'd be more useful. Even through the confusion he could tell that other men from his regiment were thinking the same thing.  
  
******  
  
The Union Army abandoned wagons full of supplies, horses, and weapons as the Confederates took over Mansfield. The battle had been a failure. Even Gus was feeling the devastation of the loss. His head hung low and he didn't bother chewing on his bit. Something he always did.  
  
Vin held onto the reins tightly as they walked toward their new camp. Tents, fires, and men lined the rows and everyone was silent. They had been expecting a win, but instead they received a large loss. The mood around the campfires was melancholy and nothing seemed to be able to cheer them up.  
  
The war was supposed to be over, not dragging on like it had. Men wanted to go home to their families and their farms. They didn't want to be fighting in the mud, rain, and heat anymore. The long days and even longer marches were wearing on everyone's nerves. They were tired of the color blue, tents, and living out of a satchel.  
  
It was the men who'd been there from the start that kept everyone moving forward. It was them who supplied the words of encouragement when the need arose. They'd been at it the longest and they were the ones that had seen it all. They knew the grief the new ranks were feeling and most importantly, they understood it. Longevity would win this war, not numbers. The South had already proved that, so it was up to the North to wait them out.  
  
******  
  
Vin continued to carve on his stick as the sun slowly made its descent. He contemplated his choice in joining the Union Army. Was it the right one? Or was it the wrong one? He understood what had to be done and part of that included putting a stop to the Confederacy. Keeping the Union together was the most important initiative, though slavery had become an important issue as well.  
  
Slavery wasn't an issue Vin was familiar with. Not that he'd never heard of it or the horrific stories that followed, but he'd never seen a black slave. For the most part Texas was a part of the Confederacy because they wanted to secede; though slavery was common Vin had never witnessed it.  
  
There had been enough that Vin had seen to last him a lifetime. Beatings from John, the loss of his mother, and the Indians that had killed Bea and Evan, that didn't include traveling from place to place after leaving Helen and John. It was a hard country with many unspoken rules and most of those rules had to be broken…at least once.  
  
"Did'ja hear that a bunch of us sharpshooters are joinin' up with Generals Meade an' Grant?" Oliver Harper said, sliding into a seat across from Vin.  
  
"Ain't heard that," Vin responded, never taking his eyes off his stick.  
  
"Damn, Vin," Oliver shook his head, his long black hair falling into his eyes. "Ain't you excited about workin' with Grant, the man's a legend and he ain't even dead yet."  
  
Vin looked up and shook his head. He'd fight where he was ordered, despite who was leading him. He didn't care about names and reputations, in the west they only meant one thing…a challenge. Someone was always willing to fight or shoot in order to make a name for themselves and Vin didn't want any part of it.  
  
"It's about damn time we send those Johnny Rebs back with their tails stuck between their legs." Oliver continued, "From what I hear Grant's got plans to end this skirmish."  
  
"Like the plans he had at the start of this war?" Vin asked, with a smiled creasing his lips.  
  
Oliver threw a small pebble and sighed. "For as little as you talk Tanner, you sure know how to bring a man down."  
  
"Don't mean to bring you down," Vin's grin widened. "Besides, it's better to win the war than talk about it."  
  
"Hell, I ain't goin' to argue that point with ya." Oliver sighed and leaned back against the log. "Well, if I get orders to go…I'm headin' out."  
  
"Why ar'you in such a hurry to get dead?" Vin asked, looking up from his carving.  
  
"I ain't in a hurry to get dead, I just want to finish this war. Hell, I've got me a pretty little gal back home just waitin' for me to pop the question and I aim on doin' just that when I get back." Oliver kicked his heal into the ground. "Her name's, Joanna," he said her name carefully and well pronounced.  
  
"Sounds like a right pretty name."  
  
"She's got a face to match…"  
  
"You boy's apart of the 105th Missouri?" A young man asked, stepping up to the fire. He waited until he saw the others nod their heads. "You boys have been ordered to…"  
  
"HA HA, I knew it!" Oliver jumped to his feet.  
  
"We've been ordered to what?" Vin shook his head and asked. The kid had yet to finish his announcement.  
  
"You're riding out with Sergeant Dempsey in the morning to support Grant and Meade. The generals are heading to an area of land called the Wilderness. Grant wants sharpshooters stationed up high because visibility is so bad." The young man shifted his feet uncomfortably.  
  
"When are we leavin'?" Vin asked, putting his knife away.  
  
"Dawn," came the sullen reply.  
  
Vin nodded in understanding and watched as the young corporal headed back toward the Lieutenant's tent. Oliver was still dancing the 'I told you so' two-step.  
  
"You know Olly," Vin said with a chuckle, he knew Oliver hated the nickname. "If you don't sit down someone's liable to shoot you just for the hell of it."  
  
"Well, Vinny, I'm celebratin' cuz I was right." He grabbed his canteen and took a long swig. "Besides, I'm ready to see some real action, and I know I will with Grant."  
  
Vin shook his head. Real Action. What more action did they need to see? Vin had seen enough, even though he'd only been fighting a few months. How many men did he have to kill? How many bodies did he have to tread through? Vin didn't think he'd ever have to hear the sounds of wounded men crying and pleading for help, or the sight of horses struggling to move forward. Vin never wanted to be around the stale smell of gunfire smoke again.  
  
******  
  
Virginia was a state that brought with it warm weather and green plantations. Though much of the land had been devastated by battles, its resilience was already showing through. Vin truly enjoyed the country. While others in his regiment complained about the bugs and heat, Vin soaked in what the land had to offer.  
  
The Union Army had 115,000 men ready to face the thick dense forest, rough outcroppings, and second growth trees. The Wilderness. Sharpshooters stationed themselves in areas where they could best see the enemy approaching. Vin, with his rifle in hand, crawled up a large Maple tree that gave him the best visual of the land. He'd heard stories about the Wilderness. How men had tried to cut it back, only the growth grew back with a vengeance making it even harder to traverse.  
  
Vin had learned early in life to respect your surroundings, because if you didn't, your surroundings wouldn't respect you. His mother had taught him that. And when you rely on the land for your survival it's important to know what to expect. He knew this battle wouldn't be pretty. The Union was through with it. They wanted this war to end and would stop at nothing to see it. Vin knew it. He knew that by winning this battle it was the beginning of the end for the South. Two of the country's best generals were going to meet. Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee, two proud men were here to start the end. Vin believed they both knew it, now, whether or not their men knew it was something else all together.  
  
Vin looked out past the front lines and sighed. There were a lot of men out there ready and willing to give their lives. He pulled his rifle up closer to his shoulder and sat as still as he could. He'd shoot as soon as the enemy showed their faces.  
  
******  
  
Vin had little to compare the Wilderness to, but he did know that it was the most horrific battle he'd ever fought. For two days the Union Army pushed the Confederacy back with cannons, gunfire, and sheer determination. Men fell wounded, and dead only to be consumed by flash fires. As the smell of burning flesh and cries of pain filled the air the Union Army pressed on. They would not lose.  
  
While sharpshooters fired at distant targets they could hardly see, artillerymen made their cannons sing, and the Calvary moved in to finish things off. For two days this went on and most knew that this was the beginning of the end for the Southern Armies. Vin didn't care. He was ready to leave the bloodied battlefields, and the nightmares that would follow.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
1865  
  
Vin looked out past Arkansas', Sileam Springs, into the Unorganized Territory. The West had been calling him by name since his departure so many years ago. The war was over. He hadn't wasted any time leaving the South after Lee's surrender.  
  
He'd survived the war, escaping injury and illness. He didn't know why so many men he stood with fell, but he was thankful he didn't. It was time to move on and do something with his life. He kicked Gus into a slow jog and headed home.  
  
Most of the Indians were being forced onto reservations and only a very few were left fighting the government. After fighting in a war that decided the rights of the Southern states, Vin's views of the Indians rights had changed dramatically. At the start of the war it had been easy for him to choose a side. It wasn't until he left the South and witnessed the devastation done to the country that he decided he might not have been right in his decision. Who wouldn't fight for their homes and their lands?  
  
Gus trotted down the road at a steady gate perking his ears at the noises of the wind and plains animals. Dirt swirled around the base of trees and along the path's edge. On occasion a deer would sprint across the fields, and hawks would dive for their prey. With the sky so blue and clouds looking like fresh pulled cotton, a sense of peace fell over the sharpshooter.  
  
******  
  
Indian tribes such as the Shawnee, Kiowa, Apache, and Comanche had most white settlers fearing for their lives. Part of living in the West meant dealing with the natives, and sometimes blood was shed. The government had tried to do everything they could to remove the Indians from their lands, including supplying them lice infected bedding, rotten foods, and no medical supplies.  
  
Vin was convinced that the Army didn't do anything graceful, and they wouldn't make peace with the Indians. He understood why the natives were fighting for their rights. They had a right to. Nobody deserved to be kicked off their property because of the color of their skin, and that's just what the government was doing. Punishing Indians for being Indians.  
  
The deaths of Bea and Evan had stuck with Vin for a very long time, but the war had changed the way he viewed their deaths. They didn't die for nothing and they didn't die in vain. They were casualties of war, lives taken to prove a point, and Vin wouldn't dispute what the men who killed Bea and Evan were trying to say. How could he? He didn't understand their way of life, or their beliefs, but he did understand what it meant to fight for your home.  
  
Summer had arrived in the west with its usual finesse. The earth's floor absorbed the sun's rays while plants either flourished or perished. The distant mountains seemed to glow in the sunlight, while shadows crept across the ground. This is what Vin had missed, the solitude and peace of the West.  
  
******  
  
Gus stuck his nose into the crisp cool water as his rider dismounted. Night had descended leaving only the light of the moon to light their way. Frogs, crickets, and owls echoed in the distance as if making conversation with each other.  
  
Vin uncinched the saddle and threw it down onto its pommel. He laid the saddle pad on its back, allowing it to air out for the night. Gus seemed content splashing around in the creek, munching on the green grass near the water's edge. This was the perfect place to stay for the night, a tree for shelter, and a crick for fresh water. Using a few dried branches Vin got a small fire going and started to make himself some coffee.  
  
The night was always the most peaceful, as the animals bedded themselves. Vin leaned against the downed log. Things had changed so much since he'd been here. He wasn't seventeen anymore, and though he'd never looked at life through naive eyes, he had learned a new respect for all people. Not everyone was raised the same, believed the same, or cared the same.  
  
At nineteen Vin was facing life on his own…again. Only this time, there wasn't someone standing over him ordering him around, telling him what to do, or forcing him to do it. This time he intended to live life on his own terms. He had the skills to do it. He'd made a name for himself in his regiment as one of the best sharpshooters around. It was true that he could hit the eye out of a nickel from fifty yards away. Most men found it difficult to see a nickel from that distance, much less shoot it.  
  
Vin jumped when he heard a scuffling sound coming from behind a handful of weeds. He pulled his pistol from his holster and pointed it in the direction of the bushes. He wasn't about to get jumped now, not this close to home. Vin shrugged his shoulders, where was home?  
  
"You best come on out a' there!" Vin called to the bush. He noticed Gus had stopped eating and was looking toward the bushes as well.  
  
The bushes moved again and longer this time.  
  
"I ain't gonna be real happy comin' in after you!" Vin called again, walking slowly toward the shrub.  
  
The smell of coffee and jerky filled the air and Vin's stomach growled when his nose captured a whiff of the aroma. He was really hoping whatever was hiding in the bushes wasn't bigger or hungrier than he was. With every instinct telling him to turn tail and run, Vin snuck up closer to the bush. Carefully he grabbed a branch and pulled.  
  
"Awe, hell," Vin swore, capturing the sight of a young Indian woman holding on tightly to her child.  
  
******  
  
The woman jumped back, using her body as a shield to protect her child. Dirt, mud, and debris covered her clothing, face, and hair. The stranger knelt down in front of her. The woman didn't say anything; she just eyed the stranger's every move. She didn't understand what he was saying, but she recognized the tone, soft, even, and non-threatening. She jumped when the stranger moved, putting away his gun, and she turned her attention back to his face. He smiled softly at her. With the touch of a mother, she gently wiped her child's face free of dirt and hair.  
  
Vin reached into his pocket and removed a handkerchief that was full of jerky and hardtack. "I know this ain't much but it's all I've got," he went on to say, handing the woman his food. Tentatively, she reached out and took it. "I've got some coffee goin' as well," Vin said, getting to his feet. He tried not to make big or fast movements, like a skittish colt, he didn't want to scare the woman any more than she already was.  
  
The sound of the coffee boiling over grabbed Vin's attention and he quickly reached around and grabbed the pot. He yelped when the steaming fluid seared the skin on his right hand. The coffee pot dropped to the ground spilling its contents.  
  
"Hachi," the woman said, walking up from behind Vin. With her child in her arms she reached up and touched the stranger on the shoulder. "Hachi…inkomoolichi, i'hoopa."  
  
Vin turned quickly with his left hand holding his right wrist tightly. "I don't understand." He shook his head, watching her movements carefully.  
  
The woman touched her chest and spoke softly and clearly. "Ana, Opako." She touched her chest again. "Opako."  
  
"Opako," Vin shook his head again, then suddenly it dawned on him. "You're Opako." He watched as the woman smiled and nodded her head.  
  
Gently, the woman took Vin's arm and looked closely at the red burn. "Ana I'h`allatka aloopa," she said softly, pulling her new patient towards the downed log. She wasn't threatened by him.  
  
"Ma'am," Vin started, but was quickly hushed by receiving the bundle of blankets with the child wrapped tightly inside. "I don't understand what…"  
  
Opako grabbed Vin's hand and then using a soft piece of doeskin she wiped the area clean. "Ya isna s`ahmoosi inkomoolichi, yam`a?"  
  
"I don't understand…"  
  
"Inkomoolichi?" She gently touched the red area that was already starting to blister.  
  
"Yes, pain," Vin confirmed.  
  
Opako chuckled and continued to tend the stranger's wound. She watched as her son continued to sleep in the man's arms.  
  
"Why are you out here on your own?" Vin asked, knowing she wouldn't be able to answer. The woman looked up at him and smiled then quickly returned to her task. Vin grabbed her hand and directed her attention toward the child. "Name, what's 'is name?"  
  
"Haskiina," Opako spoke softly and waited for Vin to repeat the name, and he did. She pointed toward his chest and nodded. "Hachi?"  
  
"Hachi…oh, my name." Vin chuckled to himself. "Vin, Vin Tanner."  
  
"V…i…n," she said softly, careful to pronounce every syllable. She smiled confidently when she noticed the man nod his head in approval. Her long black hair fell over her shoulder and she pushed it back out of the way. With the practiced ease of a healer she wrapped the soft doeskin cloth around the wound and tied it off with a leather strip.  
  
Opako gently took her child back into her arms. Without warning she opened up her buckskin dress and pulled her child to her breast and started to feed him. Vin jumped back, feeling as though he was intruding on a moment and moved toward his saddle and immediately started laying out a bedroll.  
  
It was obvious to Vin that the woman had either escaped, or possibly had hidden herself from something or someone. She'd been here a while, that much was obvious, the way she devoured the food he'd given her. It was hard to say from what tribe she was from, being that there were so many in the area.  
  
"Opako?" Vin called, he then turned and looked at her. He motioned with his hand to the bed he'd made up.  
  
The woman shook her head. She understood what he was telling her, but she settled herself further down into the leaves. She'd make herself comfortable by the fire. "Ana `aata y`aali."  
  
Vin shook his head in frustration. The language barrier was getting in the way. Without being asked, Vin picked up his blanket and took it over to Opako who shook her head in refusal. Vin ignored her protest and carefully placed the blanket over her shoulders.  
  
"I can't leave ya out here alone," Vin said, squatting down in front of her. He watched as she smiled and nodded her head. He didn't know what he was going to do, he didn't even know if he could find her people. Did she want to find them? Slowly, Vin stood up and moved closer to the fire. What was he going to do?  
  
******  
  
Gus didn't want anything to do with a child. So the idea of Opako and her son riding the large beast was out of the question. Vin decided to lead Gus and walk with the Indian woman and her infant son. They were headed to a small trading post, and there, Vin hoped to find another horse.  
  
Opako spent most of the morning in silence, speaking only to her son on rare occasions. If it wasn't for the fact she walked a few steps in front of Vin he wouldn't even know someone was with him. On occasion Gus would reach out and nip at green foliage, trying to sneak a bit to eat when he could.  
  
The trading post was simply a wooden shack out in the middle of nowhere. A round corral rested across the way and thankfully there was some good horseflesh ready for purchase. Three horses were saddled and tied to the hitching rail outside the shed. Opako looked unsure of Vin's decision to enter the post, but his confidence seemed to calm her worried nerves.  
  
Vin tied Gus to the hitching rail away from the other horses and then he headed inside. Opako stood next to the door, unwilling to follow.  
  
******  
  
The post was dark and smelled of rank tobacco, whiskey, and body odor. Three men sat at a table in the back of the room while the owner of the trading post worked behind the bar counting furs. Nobody looked to have bathed within the last year and facial hair was in abundance.  
  
"Hey, boy, what'd you want?" one of the men from the table asked, spilling his drink in the process.  
  
"I need to buy a horse," Vin answered, and then he cleared his throat.  
  
"There's a corral full of 'em. You can take yer pick," the owner replied with a smile.  
  
"How much you askin'?" Vin looked curiously around the room. Animal skins hung from the walls and in stacks beside the tables. Canned goods, bundles of tobacco, and crates of red eye lined the far wall.  
  
"How much ya got?" came the menacing reply.  
  
"How much for the little bay?" Vin ignored the previous question.  
  
"Ya sure that little bay ain't gonna be too much hoss fer ya?" The longhaired man with a patch over his eye asked, wanting to get a rise out of the much younger man.  
  
"How much for the bay?"  
  
"Twenty, unless you got somethin' worth tradin'?"  
  
Vin ignored the comment then headed outside. If there was going to be a conflict he wanted to do it out in the open and someplace where he could see better. There were too many things he wasn't familiar with inside. He eyed his surroundings then headed to the corral.  
  
The little bay mare trotted up to the fence when the stranger approached. She quickly nudged his shoulder and without any effort he slipped on the soft leather halter. Like a well-trained pony the little mare followed Vin with encouragement in her feet. Vin looked up in time to see the trading post owner step out of the building and eye the Indian woman. Quickly, Vin led the mare in the man's direction ready to defend this woman regardless of the fact he hardly knew her. He pulled twenty dollars in coins out of his pocket and handed them over.  
  
"You know who that is?" The owner asked, leaning towards Vin.  
  
Vin shook his head, not giving Opako another thought.  
  
"That's Yellow Buffalo's wife…" He looked again at the woman and her child. "The Alabama tribe." He returned his look to Vin. "He finds out you have 'er…" he chuckled, "yer as good as dead." He slapped Vin on the shoulder then headed back inside.  
  
Vin watched him only for a moment and then turned his attention back to the little bay. He knew who Yellow Buffalo was. He'd heard the stories about the Alabama Indian, and none of them were pleasant.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Opako rode the little bay bareback and with her son strapped to her back. She rode ahead of Vin, as though she felt confident with him beside her and he'd get her back home safely. She knew the way, and the signs to follow. It had been four Apache that had captured her and only after they'd gotten drunk one night was she able to escape from them. Her desire was to get back to her husband, and this man with her would make that possible.  
  
They rode for four days stopping only at night to sleep. Vin had managed to kill them some food, and Opako had prepared it. The language barrier was still a problem but they'd managed to come to an understanding by signing and gestures. Most of the time Vin felt ridiculous but the problem was being solved.  
  
On the fifth day, the two rode into the Indian camp. The natives looked at Vin in distrust, revulsion, and hatred. He couldn't blame them. It wasn't until the chief came out of his hut that everyone hushed. Opako slid off her horse and rushed to her husband. Within seconds Vin was pulled roughly from his horse and thrown onto the hard ground. Gus spooked and kicked out trying only to protect himself.  
  
Fists pounded down on Vin while he curled up into a ball trying to protect his head and midsection. He heard a yell and the abuse stopped. Peaking out between his arms he noticed everyone backing away. Slowly, Vin uncurled himself and sat up. The crowd looked at him in wonder, and they looked at the chief with respect.  
  
Yellow Buffalo stepped forward with his wife and son right beside him. "Opako says you saved her?" his accent was strong and his voice was low and rough. It didn't match his elegant attire of deerskins, and horsehair.  
  
"I just didn't think she should be left out there on 'er own," Vin answered honestly.  
  
"She was taken a week ago, I am in your debt for returning her to me." A strong arm came forward with an extended hand.  
  
Tentatively, Vin reached out and grasped the hand and he was quickly pulled to his feet. He looked around at the untrusting faces and then back to the chief and Opako. "I'll get out'a your hair."  
  
"First," the chief smiled, "we eat." He slapped Vin on the shoulder and pushed him toward the cook site.  
  
Vin looked curiously around. He didn't want to put these people out. Plus, he didn't want to press his luck.  
  
"Opako tells me you bartered for the horse she rides?" Laana Yanasa, or Yellow Buffalo, motioned for Vin to take a seat.  
  
"My horse Gus, he's hard to get to know and wouldn't…"  
  
"Gus?" The Indian chief looked strangely at Vin. "Such a strange name."  
  
"He's a strange horse," Vin replied with a laugh.  
  
The chief looked thoughtfully at his guest and paused. He knew the stranger was uncomfortable, as well he should be, but there was a gift the young man held that captured the chief's attention. Most white men would have left his wife, not bothered to return her home, but this one had. This man had offered up his food, blankets, and money for an Indian woman…with a child.  
  
"My people fear the white man and his ways." Seriousness filled the area and Vin nodded at Yellow Buffalo's words. "Do you fear ours?"  
  
"Don't rightly know 'em," Vin admitted.  
  
The chief nodded in understanding. "You are welcome to stay for as long as you need." He smiled and took the bowl that was handed to him. He watched as Vin took another bowl and nodded his head in thanks. There was something special about this young man.  
  
******  
  
Vin gave Gus a pat on the neck before he unsaddled the large animal. Most of the Alabama Indians had warmed up to him within the first few hours, while others kept their distance, despite what the chief had told them. Vin was to be treated as family, after all he'd saved and returned Laana Yanasa's wife and son to him, and that was all that mattered.  
  
"You have a fine animal," one of the tribesmen said, stepping up beside the large horse.  
  
Vin nodded and returned a subtle smile. The man was short, but he had a strong build. Vin guessed that he didn't lose many fights. His hair was long and hung free over his shoulders down to the center of his back. His eyes were far apart but their size more than made up for it.  
  
"Gus," Vin said. "His name's Gus."  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Vin gave a low chuckle. "I just brought Opako back…then I'll be headin' out." He didn't want to over stay his bounds.  
  
"Do you always quite so easily?" The Indian asked, with a smile appearing on his face.  
  
Vin laughed and shook his head. He knew when he'd been had. "Name's Vin." He stuck his hand out.  
  
"Hipli Chola," he returned the firm handshake. "Not many men gain Laana Yanasa's respect, and no white man has ever done so." He watched as Vin nodded in acknowledgement. "I'd be honored to let me call you friend."  
  
Vin looked up, taken back by the statement. "Feelin's mutual." He smiled then clasped onto Hipli Chola's hand.  
  
******  
  
Gus stepped over the rocky terrain with his head down while trying to keep his footing. Small stones moved under the big horse's feet like chips of ice on a wet floor. Vin gave him his head as he followed Chola and his paint pony. They'd been tracking the Apache who had taken Opako and her child.  
  
Normally, Vin wouldn't have gone along, but because he was whom he was, Lanna Yanasa, permitted it. Vin, like a sponge, absorbed everything he was learning. What to look for while tracking, things like footprints, plants, and the direction of the wind. A hunter could simply find his prey by following a scent, or blades of broken grass. Chola knew his hunt like most men knew themselves, and Vin realized early that he was learning from the best.  
  
Vin slipped from Gus' back when Chola dismounted. Both men crept slowly around the mountain ridge. They could see a small clearing where three Apache sat below, resting in the shade. Chola motioned for Vin to take aim with his rifle, they knew there was another man around and they wanted to make sure they had him in their sights before taking any action.  
  
With the horses ground tied, Chola jogged further down the ridge so he could get a better view of the land. He left Vin positioned on the crest, ready to fire a shot when needed. Capturing these renegades would mean a great honor among the tribe, and not just for Vin, but Chola as well. Laana Yanasa was a man who demanded results and because of it all the best trackers in the tribe were out searching for the men who had taken his beloved wife. Chola had been the only person willing to take Vin, the white man, with him on the hunt.  
  
Vin kept as still as a cat ready for the pounce as he watched the men down below. None of them seemed concerned with what was about to happen. Even from the mountain ridge Vin could smell the alcohol they'd been consuming, and their horses were more than twenty yards from their positions. So, even if they did want to escape, it wouldn't be easy.  
  
It was only a few moments before Chola slipped back in beside his friend. He was as quiet as a cat and as obvious as a ghost.  
  
"If the fourth man is out there?" Chola shook his head. "He hides very well." His voice was soft as to not alert the men below.  
  
"What do'ya want'a do?" Vin asked, never taking his eyes off the men below.  
  
Chola smiled mischievously. "How good can you shoot that gun?" He motioned toward the weapon Vin was holding.  
  
Vin returned Chola's smile, and carefully cocked the weapon. "What do'ya want me ta hit?"  
  
Chola slapped his friend on the shoulder and chuckled. "All of them," though he said it as a joke, but something inside him told him that Vin would hit them all.  
  
Vin nodded and carefully positioned his rifle then fired.  
  
Chola watched in amazement as the Apache closest to the horses went down. In rapid succession the weapon was fired and like an extension of Vin's arm, he fired without second-guessing himself. He worked the gun as though it were a part of himself and not a tool that one needs to get accustomed to using. The other two Indians jumped up and franticly started for their horses but before they could reach them were cut down. The horses scattered and then fled all together.  
  
"You shoot good, Tanner!" The tracker slapped Vin on the shoulder then stood up. "Will you one day hunt me the same?"  
  
Vin looked hard at Chola and shook his head. "Never, my friend."  
  
******  
  
Vin and Chola led their horses down to the clearing. The area was green and a perfect place for hiding. The three Indian ponies that had fled earlier were now grazing peacefully off in the distance. While Vin kicked dirt on the fire, Chola checked the bodies of the dead men.  
  
It was obvious they had been here for some time. The grass had been flattened down for bedding and most of the dried wood had been picked up and burned. There was even a trail leading down to the stream, something Vin never would have noticed before. He tried not to look as Chola took the scalps of the Apaches. He didn't do it out of revenge or anger, but rather because he needed proof to show the chief when they arrived back in camp.  
  
Vin jumped when Gus snorted and pulled back on his reins. Chola rushed toward his own pony when he saw the strange horse and rider charge the camp. A native scream was shrieked and echoed throughout the air like a hawk's piercing cry. Stampeding hooves struck the ground as ferocious weapons. Vin pulled his weapon and fired but nothing seemed to strike the phantom rider.  
  
Another cry pierced the air and Vin fell to the ground clutching his side. Gus snorted and tried to get free. Chola rushed forward and with his tomahawk in hand. With all his might he threw the carefully constructed weapon, striking the fourth Apache warrior in the chest. He fell to the ground, dead.  
  
Vin lay on the ground clutching at the arrow that had pierced his lower left side. Gus had calmed down and now stood nervously over his master. Blood seeped between the wooden shaft of the arrow, clothing, and fingers as Vin continued to grasp at the wound. He tried to sit up but the pain bit back and kept him down. He pinched his face when he felt hands grab his arm and then his wounded side.  
  
"Aw!" Vin yelped, when his shirt was ripped open.  
  
"You cry like a woman," Chola said, in good humor. He gently helped his friend sit up and immediately started removing his upper body clothing. With careful hands he began to examine the wound. The arrow had gone through and was protruding from both sides.  
  
"What are you goin' to do?" Vin asked, grasping for breath. He noticed the large knife Chola had pulled from his belt.  
  
"Do you trust me?" Chola asked.  
  
"Do I have a choice?" Vin replied sarcastically.  
  
The tracker laughed at his friend's sense of humor and immediately went to work. Carefully, he cut the shaft a few inches from the entryway of the wound. Then, with steady hands, he cut a groove into the pipe. Vin hissed in pain but tried not to move. Blood continued to seep steadily from the wound and beads of sweat started to gather all over his body. He watched as Chola placed a small amount of gunpowder in the groove he'd cut. He looked up into Vin's face and paused.  
  
"Ready?" Chola asked, his eyes laced his concern.  
  
Vin just nodded, unsure of what to expect.  
  
Chola placed the blade of his knife on the end of the shaft and with a steady hand he lit the gunpowder then shoved the shaft all the way through the wound and pulled it out the back side. Vin gave into the darkness that was calling him.  
  
******  
  
Every step Gus took seemed to send shards of pain through Vin's body. He didn't know how he got mounted, or how long ago he'd been wounded. A blanket had been thrown over his bare shoulders and he tried to concentrate on just hanging on.  
  
The smell of fires burning, and hides grazed Vin's senses like a distant memory. He felt hands pull him from his saddle and carry him into someplace warm.  
  
******  
  
Chola entered camp just as dusk was setting. He jumped off his mount and rushed to his friend's aid. Chief Laana Yanasa stepped out of his hut while others gathered around their most trusted tracker and the white man. Chola reached up and grabbed Vin's shoulders and was relieved when several others came in to help him. He watched as Vin was taken into the healer's cabin. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up into the Chief's eyes.  
  
"He is a good friend?"  
  
Chola nodded then reached for his belt and removed four scalps. He handed them over to the chief and sighed. "Only one is mine."  
  
Laana Yanasa looked at his warrior in surprise and then he nodded in understanding. "I'faylichi will heal him, if it is meant to be."  
  
Chola reluctantly agreed. He wasn't sure why he felt guilty over the possible death of a white man, but this wasn't any ordinary white man. He was a friend…a brother. Slowly, he headed into the hut they'd taken Vin into earlier. I'faylichi was a good medicine maker, and Vin was strong.  
  
******  
  
A small fire burned in the center of the hut while Vin lay motionless on a pile of pelts. He was covered with a blanket to his waist while doeskin bandages covered his wounded side. A fever had started and now raged on in his body and he fought his dreams quietly…for now. The medicine maker, an older woman and a rarity even for the Indian people, moved in symbolic motions around the sick bed. Her long graying hair swayed with her every motion, and the chanting of her voice somehow managed to bring comfort to the young man lying at death's door.  
  
Chola looked on and wondered if this man would perish. The one, and only, white man who'd given his word that he would not hunt Chola's people.  
  
******  
  
Vin opened his eyes slowly and tried to regain his composure. He wasn't quite sure where he was at or what had happened. He felt warm and comfortable, but a gnawing pain kept coming from his side. He moved the heavy blanket back and noticed the bandages covering his side and he lay back…remembering. The hut was dark and quiet and Vin could make out one other form in the small quarters. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, not wanting to aggravate his wound.  
  
"I'faylichi, says you are destined for greatness," the low voice of Chola's echoed in the small area.  
  
Vin chuckled and then took another deep breath. "Can't say I agree with that."  
  
"She says you heal quickly and bury your pains deep."  
  
Vin didn't respond to that statement, instead he closed his eyes and tried not to concentrate on the pain. Some wounds didn't heal, and others just festered. He heard his friend move closer to him and then settle himself on the small pallet next to his bed.  
  
"I have never seen a man shoot like you, nor learn so quickly." Chola bowed his head and then looked back to Vin. "The people here are calling you, Istinka, the gift, they think you will save us from our enemies."  
  
Vin's eyes shot open and he looked up to his friend, stunned by his announcement. "Ah, hell," he swore, more to himself than at the situation.  
  
"You will leave?" The question was soft, honest, and touched with pain. He looked at his friend knowing he would eventually go.  
  
"I reckon I will," Vin responded truthfully.  
  
Chola nodded. He pulled his knife out of his belt and looked hard at Vin. "Brother," he said softly, then cut the palm of his hand.  
  
Vin nodded, and then stuck his own palm out for Chola to cut. The pain was sharp but quick and both men clasped each other's hands.  
  
"Brother," Vin replied, through clenched teeth.  
  
Chapter 10  
  
It wasn't until two years later that Vin decided to leave. He didn't depart the company of the Alabama people for any particular reason…it was just time to go. Everyone there understood it. This had been the only place he'd stayed for any length of time but the winds were calling him again. To what, he didn't know, just that it was time to move on. He was going to miss his friends, Chola especially. The two had shared more secrets with each other than a congregation shares with their priest. Vin had even stood up for him when he got married. Now, Chola was a married man with a child of his own, and Vin had been able to see that happen.  
  
Though Vin's mother had taught him to respect the land and lean the ways of it, Chola and his people had taught him he was a part of it. The land could not only keep him alive, but it could kill him. It would provide everything he'd ever need…if he knew where to look, and now he did.  
  
The Indian people weren't savages that needed to be controlled. No. They were people who had developed with the country, evolved with it, and become a part of it. Not like the whites that felt that they needed to conquer it. Here, there was a reason and a respect for everything and Vin had the privilege of learning it.  
  
As a departing gift, Chola's wife, Nita`lo`osi Pakaali, or Morning Glory, had made Vin a buckskin rifle case, decorated with small pieces of bone and obsidian. It was Opako's gift that he cherished the most. She had given him a buckskin jacket after spending months working on. He promised her he'd wear it always.  
  
******  
  
Gus traversed over the barren land like the sure-footed animal he was. He looked up when the occasional hawk would fly out of the sky capturing their prey. Being a drifter wasn't as easy as it sounded. Moving from one town to the next, taking every job that came his way, and never knowing where his next meal would come from. None of it was easy.  
  
As Vin entered Colorado Springs, he stopped in front of the saloon and went inside. There weren't many people out; most were inside trying to stay out of the rainy weather. A few patrons were sitting around various tables, drinking and playing poker. A few saloon girls served up drinks and appeased their clients in different ways.  
  
"What do'ya have?" The bartender asked, pulling a glass from the counter before his new customer even bothered to order.  
  
"Beer," Vin answered. He leaned against the bar and looked casually around the room. The wall behind the bar was filled with glasses of all styles and bottles filled with red eye. A painting of a voluptuous woman clad only in a red satin scarf rested between the shelves filled with beverages. Tables, many having seen better days, rested in different positions around the room. Many had been carved into, or filled with buckshot; a few had even been hastily repaired with sting and nails. Spittoons that hadn't been cleaned since the dawning of man sat at each table and at the corners of the room. The final touch was the carpet that had been red at one time, was now covered in mud and manure.  
  
"Hey, young fella!" a man called from the back of the room.  
  
Vin stood up strait and turned to look at the older man.  
  
"You lookin' fer a job?" the man asked, making his way toward the bar.  
  
"Maybe," Vin replied, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"Name's Clay Black." He stuck his hand out for the younger man to shake. "Noticed you and yer horse when ya rode up," he ran his fingers through his long hair and continued, "thought maybe I could interest ya in a job."  
  
"Doin' what?" Vin asked, taking another sip of his beer.  
  
"Huntin'," Clay responded with a smile.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Anythin' that brings in money." Clay leaned against the bar and tapped the counter signaling for the tender to pour him another drink. "I've been huntin' buffalo, but, pelts of any kind 'ill work."  
  
"So why ya askin' me?"  
  
"Because nobody around here looks like they could catch a cold, much less a buffalo." He chuckled and slapped his leg in amusement. "I'll split everythin' fifty-fifty." Clay's voice went from a joking tone to a serious one.  
  
Vin turned his attention from the man next to him to the painting on the wall. He needed the job; there was no contemplating that. "When do we leave?" he asked, turning his attention back to Clay.  
  
"Tomorrow," Clay answered, with a smile.  
  
******  
  
Vin woke before dawn and carefully slipped out of the bed he'd slept in. He didn't want to wake the young woman lying next to him. Quickly, he got into his clothing and disappeared through the door. The sun had yet to come up, it was the perfect time of day.  
  
Gus nickered from his stall in the livery when the door opened and Vin walked in. Clay was already loading his wagon with supplies. The wagon was large, larger than most, with high sidewalls and heavy wheels. The wagon bed was deep, enabling Clay to carry more buffalo hides. The team of horses stood patiently while chewing on their bits.  
  
"We'll head south at first. I heard there was some good sized herds there'abouts." Clay jumped down off the wagon and stretched his back.  
  
Vin nodded in agreement, while pulling Gus out of his stall. The big horse stomped his front foot and waited patiently for his master to finish saddling him. Twitching his ears he looked forward as the barn doors were opened and the team of horses were led out pulling the heavy wagon behind them.  
  
The morning's cool breeze felt good on Vin's skin as he led his horse out of the shelter. Clay was seated in the wagon, waiting. They were heading south. The Unorganized Territory and Texas, it had been a long time since he'd been there, the place where he was born, and the place where his parents were buried…and he didn't even know where.  
  
The slapping of reins on the team of horses' backs brought Vin out of his moment of reverie. He kicked Gus in his sides and urged him on. Texas. He was going home.  
  
******  
  
Dead carcasses of buffalo littered the land like that of cactus in a desert. Their bodies had been robbed of its only protection from the elements. Flies and scavengers now fed on their unprotected flesh. Vin looked out over the land and sighed, so much devastation for a little bit of cash. The wagon was loaded with buffalo skins and the stench filled the air.  
  
This wasn't what Vin wanted to be doing. Killing so needlessly. He kicked Gus into a gallop and left the area ahead of Clay. The fringe on his coat moved with his horse's every movement. Autumn had arrived, and with it came cool, gentle winds, and long rains.  
  
Vin had told Clay that he was moving forward to search for place to stop for the night. In reality he needed to leave the area, and clear his head. Clay was a good man with his own ideas about the world, and Vin generally liked him, although he could do without the late night gastric episodes, or the constant belching. There was a reason Clay Black had earned the nickname, gasbag.  
  
They had been working together for over a year and Vin was ready for a change. It was hard being a part of the reason the buffalo were disappearing. He didn't need to be told that he was the cause. He saw it every time he fired his weapon. Every bird, coyote, and fly were a reminder of what he was a part of.  
  
******  
  
Clay tied the horses out then made his way toward the campsite. Vin was squatting down next to the fire pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was obvious the kid was worried about something. He was normally a quiet individual, but when he always got quieter when he was thinking about something.  
  
"What's on yer mind?" Clay asked, seating himself on a log.  
  
Vin shrugged, not sure how he was going to put his concern into words. "The buffalo are just 'bout gone…"  
  
"Hell, there're still plenty out there."  
  
"I don't want to be a part of killin' 'em all." Vin's voice was sharper than he intended.  
  
Clay nodded his head. He understood the kid's concern. "There're plenty of things you can do. Hell, how many cats did you track down fer farmers?"  
  
"That ain't what I'm worried 'bout." Vin held his cup of coffee between his hands, warming his fingers. "I picked up one of them wanted posters in the last town we was in…"  
  
"You want'a give up buffalo huntin' for…bounty huntin'?" Clay asked in disbelief.  
  
"Pays more, not so much work, and…" Vin tried giving a list of all the benefits, "we wouldn't be killin' no more."  
  
There it was, Clay sighed: "How long you been thinkin' on this?"  
  
"Can't say for sure…"  
  
"You become a bounty hunter you'll be killin' men, not just animals." Clay ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
"The sheriff in Dixon done said that these posters usually call for dead or alive…"  
  
"Vin, you're a real smart kid but sometimes you need to think 'bout things." He sighed and watched as Vin's shoulders slumped. "I've done been a bounty hunter, I know them ropes. These men you're gonna be chasin' ain't gonna want'a come easy, there's a reason the law's after 'em." He tried to explain the reasons why he didn't want to hunt men, but it wasn't enough. "Killin' men is different."  
  
"Don't lecture me Clay. I know all 'bout killin' men…"  
  
"Yeah, I reckon you do." Clay nodded his head. "Livin' out here ain't…"  
  
"Aw hell," Vin sighed, and then he threw his coffee cup into the fire. "I's born out here, I know all 'bout livin' it." His voice was harsher than Clay had ever heard it, and he knew this was a decision Vin had already made.  
  
"I help you with your first bounty…then you're on your own."  
  
Vin nodded, that was a start.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
Mohegan was wanted in every county he entered, he and his band of renegades. The Comanche warrior had taken it upon himself to kill for all the injustices done to him and his people. However, his crusade had gone too far. Nobody was safe from his tirades, not even his own people. Many Indians called him a 'bad spirit', perhaps the rebirth of an evil warrior. The white settlers simply said he was a crazy savage that needed to be hung…and any other Indians that got in the way of that should to be hung as well.  
  
The US Army had gone after him and come up short, and even the Texas Rangers were having problems capturing the rogue Comanche. It was the $1000 dollar reward that had every bounty hunter from California to Georgia out hunting him down. Everyone wanted the prize money, while the Texans simply wanted him dead.  
  
Vin had learned from Chola that in order to find the prey, he must become it. At the time he hadn't understood what it was his friend had been talking about, but searching for Mohegan had in some way, made him understand. A man running from the law wouldn't be running for mayor in the next town. No, he'd be looking to disguise himself…then he'd run for mayor.  
  
Clay, who was familiar with the 'rules' of bounty hunting, showed Vin where to look, who to ask, and most importantly, how not to get killed. Outlaws, of any kind, weren't outlaws because they followed the law and were nice people. They were outlaws because they didn't follow the rules of the land, instead they ignored them, sought them out as a challenge to be broken  
  
******  
  
The wanted poster in Vin's hand did little to capture the true likeness of Mohegan. It didn't show that he was over six feet tall, weighed over 200 pounds, and had the deadest eyes anyone had ever seen. No, it did nothing to capture who the real Mohegan was.  
  
Vin nudged Gus' sides and carefully guided his big horse around the sidewall of the canyon. Clay followed on his big gray. He'd sold his wagon, knowing he'd never use it again, and his team of horses. He'd fallen in love with Lady when he saw her standing alone in the coral. So, he'd reached in his pocket and purchased her.  
  
Going on gut instinct, Vin had decided to head northwest in search for Mohegan. The land was more fruitful this time of year, and water was easier to find. Though most of the 'obvious' signs were telling the duo that he should head south, something in Vin was telling him differently. Clay had put up a fight, but at the last moment decided to follow.  
  
They knew they were on the right trail when they came across a sight they'd never wanted to lay eyes on. Three men, Texas Rangers, had been tortured and then killed. They were then scalped and left out in the hot sun. This had been Mohegan's doing. Vin and Clay buried the men and gave them irregular crosses to mark their graves. It was the best they could do under the circumstances. The two former buffalo hunters headed out, they knew where they were going.  
  
******  
  
Dust swirled at the base of the canyon and the horse's hooves striking the dry ground sounded hollow through the high rocky walls. Vin checked the position of his rifle, not wanting to get it caught on something before pulling it out of its boot. Lizard Butte was the perfect hiding place for anyone who knew about it. Outlaws of every kind had sought out its refuge on more than one occasion. The rocky outcroppings and steep inclines made it difficult for even the best of sharpshooters to hit their targets successfully. Rather, nobody really tried, afraid of where the ricocheted bullet would end up.  
  
Vin dismounted Gus and ground tied him, and then he grabbed his rifle. Clay did the same. While Vin took up a position on the canyon wall, Clay stayed back knowing his partner not only had the better eyesight but the better shot as well. They knew Mohegan's band had abandoned him and he was now left with only two other outlaws, both of whom refused to leave his side.  
  
The shadow of a bird flying over the canyon crept across the ground and Vin turned his attention toward the butte. Three horses were resting near the base of the hill, saddled and ready to go. One warrior stood guard with the butt of his rifle resting against his hip pointing towards the sky. Vin would wait until the other two made their appearance.  
  
******  
  
Mohegan threw his rifle to the ground and squatted near the entrance of the cave at the base of Lizard Butte. He watched the land, the horses, and the sky searching for anything that could cause him harm. He knew he was wanted, but it didn't stop his rampaging. He'd just killed a family not a hundred miles from the spot he was at. A family that hadn't done anything except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mohegan was hungry for blood and everyone knew it. He did like being in the spotlight. He liked the idea that he was creating this larger than life being, but he was confusing respect with fear.  
  
A soft breeze picked up through the cave entrance and the Comanche warrior stood back up and looked at the entrance of the canyon. He never saw the bullet that hit him. The Indian ponies jumped and then scattered, while the other two Comanche warriors ducked for cover.  
  
******  
  
It only took a few seconds after the first shot for Vin to finish off the other two outlaws. He felt Clay slap him on the shoulder.  
  
"Damn, Vin, I knew you were a hella'va shot, but shit…"  
  
Vin didn't reply. He'd just shot and killed three men, there wasn't a reason to rejoice, no matter what it was that they'd done. He turned and headed back toward Gus who was waiting patiently for him and mounted. The big horse seemed to know his rider's mood and wasn't about to make things any more difficult for him.  
  
******  
  
It took both Clay and Vin to get Mohegan on the back of one pony's. While the other two men weren't as hard to get strapped to the back of the other horses it did take a lot of effort. At one point, Clay was comparing moving these men as to the difficulty of skinning a buffalo hide.  
  
The town of Pedro was less than a day's ride from Lizard Butte, and that's where they were headed. They didn't want to have to travel around with these bodies for an extended period of time, for many reasons, not just the obvious one. Vin took the lead, ponying the small paint and Mohegan. Clay followed, with the others.  
  
******  
  
Pedro wasn't much bigger than an outpost station. A few buildings lined the streets, a bank, sheriff's office, and of course a saloon. People bustled down the boardwalks trying to get along with their daily activities. Vin and Clay stopped their horses outside the sheriff's office and tied them to the hitching rails before they headed inside.  
  
******  
  
"…I done told ya Charles, you can't be out…" the sheriff looked up when the front door opened and two rugged individuals stepped through. His deputy Charles moved to the side of the room to be out of the way while at the same time able to see everything that was going on. "Can I help you with somethin'?"  
  
"You the sheriff?" Clay asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm Sheriff Malcolm Stiles."  
  
Clay nodded. "We've got Mohegan outside…" he didn't have time to finish as the sheriff and his deputy jumped up and rushed for the door.  
  
"Maybe they was expectin' 'im," Vin said with a chuckle.  
  
Clay sighed, then poured himself a cup of coffee and waited for the two men to reenter the office. It was only a few minutes before the Stiles and Charles entered the building carrying the renegade Indian between them. They laid him on one of the cots in the cells and then covered him with an extra blanket.  
  
"Where'd you find 'im?" the sheriff asked, confronting the two men.  
  
"What's it matter?" Vin asked.  
  
"Listen kid," Stiles snapped. "You just brought in one of this state's most wanted outlaws, so don't give me any shit on where you found 'im."  
  
Vin clenched his jaw then turned his attention to the two individuals that entered.  
  
"Oliver," Stiles said with a more relaxed smile. He reached out and shook the older of the two men's hand.  
  
"Everythin' all right here Malcolm?" Oliver asked, looking questionably at the two rough looking men.  
  
"These two 'buffalo hunters' brought in Mohegan's body." The sheriff motioned with his head for his friend to enter the cell where the body was covered.  
  
Oliver walked into the cell and threw back the blanket and took a closer look. "Who shot 'im?" he asked, seeing the carefully placed bullet wound to Mohegan's head.  
  
The sheriff looked carefully at the two bounty hunters and noticed the younger of the two nod his head. "The kid," he responded, for Vin.  
  
"Damn good shot," Oliver replied, walking out of the cell.  
  
"Too good," Stiles spit out.  
  
"I'm Oliver Perry of the Texas Rangers and that's my partner, Buck Wilmington." He leaned back against the desk and gave the young deputy a look of warning before he continued, "Where'd you find 'im?"  
  
"Lizard Butte," Clay responded.  
  
"What about the dead Rangers?" Perry asked, needing as much information as he could get.  
  
"They was dead when we got to 'em," Vin replied softly. "We tracked the three of 'em from there and when we found the scalps we knew we had the right men."  
  
"You shoot 'im?" Perry asked, wanting to hear it from the kid.  
  
Vin nodded.  
  
"What's your name kid?"  
  
"Tanner," Vin responded confidently.  
  
"Well," Oliver stood up and went around the desk then pulled out a receipt from the top drawer. "You can take this to the bank and they'll pay you the reward money." He handed it to Clay because the kid was keeping his distance. "Just out of curiosity, what are two 'buffalo hunters' doin' this far south?"  
  
Clay smiled and slipped the receipt into his coat pocket. "Huntin' buffalo," he responded with a grin.  
  
"Well then," Oliver stuck his hand out and shook Clay's in a firm grasp, "be careful…the buffalo down here tend to shoot back."  
  
Clay nodded with a knowing smile then exited the room. Vin tipped his head to the men in the room before following his friend outside. He grabbed his horse's reins and started for the saloon.  
  
******  
  
Clay folded his 500 dollars and stuck it into his pocket. It was good to have some money on him, and it felt better knowing it would last him a while. Lady was saddled and ready to go.  
  
"Ya know Vin," Clay smiled, "You've got a good head on yer shoulders."  
  
"No shit?" Vin asked, through a chuckle.  
  
Clay stuck his hand out and shook Vin's with a reinforcing grip. "Take care of yourself," he said quietly, before turning and mounting up on Lady.  
  
Vin waved him off and watched him disappear into the flat desert ground. Once again he was on his own, but this time he wasn't so young, and he wasn't so naive.  
  
Chapter 12  
  
Vin slapped Gus on his butt and closed the gate. The horse had been with him longer than anyone and it was time for him to retire. The old horse had bowed his tendon for the last time. Now, thanks to the liveryman in the small town of Tascosa, Texas, Gus would live his last few days in comfort.  
  
For the past few years Vin had been running in bounties from all over the Unorganized Territory and Texas. The job wasn't easy, it never was, but it provided clothing, food, and warm beds to sleep in, when he was fortunate enough to be in a town. He didn't really like the job of hunting men, but he was good at it…great at it. Everything that Chola had taught him was utilized, and everything Clay had taught him was as well. The years hadn't been easy on him, but they had prepared him for his future.  
  
Vin eyed the large black gelding that stood quietly at the back of the corral. He looked as alone as Vin felt, and for some reason that brought a smile to his face. "How much for the black?"  
  
The liveryman nodded. "You've got a good eye for horseflesh." He rested his forearms on the fence railing. "I'll take forty for him."  
  
Vin nodded before crawling through the fence railings toward the animal. He immediately started rubbing his hands over the horse's legs, neck, and chest.  
  
"He's only four, the man who owned him said he was a racehorse back east," Payton added.  
  
"Then why's he here?"  
  
Payton shrugged. "Guess he didn't like to run." He chuckled.  
  
Vin nodded, then walked up to the fence where Payton was standing. His new horse was following him. Vin reached into his pocket and retrieved the cash needed to purchase the animal. He then slipped a halter on the horse's head and led him out of the corral. Gus turned his attention from his feed to Vin and the horse his old master was leading. Vin tried to ignore the look but a pang of guilt ate at his heart.  
  
"I'll write you up a receipt." Payton slapped Vin on the shoulder as he headed for the barn.  
  
The big black nudged his new master's arm. Vin gave the animal a pat on the neck before saddling him. Like a pro, the horse stood still accepting his new bit and new equipment. When the large beast started pawing the ground with his hoof, Vin smiled, Digger seemed to be the perfect name.  
  
******  
  
Vin pulled out the wrinkled wanted poster and looked out over the flat barren land. Eli Joe was wanted for bank robbery, and for leaving a few bullet holes in walls, tills, desks, and windows. There was a 200-dollar bounty on the man and Vin had been hunting him for a couple of weeks. He'd finally found him.  
  
The small farm seemed unnaturally quiet for an early morning, but Vin tried not to let it bother him. There was one horse running loose in the corral while chickens ran free in the yard. A few crows sat motionless in the tree next to the house, almost daring the stranger to enter the premises.  
  
"HELLO, THE HOUSE!" Vin called, pulling his weapon from its boot on the saddle. He listened carefully for a response and none came. Slowly, and carefully, he slipped from his saddle and ground tied Digger.  
  
With his eyes focusing on every aspect of the farm Vin crept up to the front door of the house. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, but there wasn't any action or sounds coming from within the poorly built home. Vin jumped when he caught the reflection of a chicken in the window then chastised himself for being so jumpy. He grabbed the doorknob as though it were a hot potato and with his rifle ready for anything, swung it open.  
  
The house had been ransacked. Dishes, furniture, and clothing were spread out all over the floor. Vin brought his weapon up when he noticed the legs of someone in the doorway leading into another room. It was the blood that captured his attention and as he got closer to the body he knew the victim was dead. Obviously, the murder or murders were gone.  
  
Vin kneeled down and checked the body. It was Eli Joe, he was sure of it. Now all he had to do was get him back to town.  
  
******  
  
Vin ponied the small chestnut mare that had been in the corral with Eli lying across her back. He entered town and headed directly to the sheriff's office.  
  
Sheriff Mark Central was a short fat man who wore his hat all the time to hide his baldness. He liked to think he was an important part of the community, but in reality he was the town joke. He liked to drink and more times than not his red nose and rosy cheeks gave away his weakness, but nobody cared. Crime wasn't really in issue in their small backwater town. Sure, a few saloon fights and the occasional theft of a pig, but nothing overwhelming.  
  
Vin entered the sheriff's office and averted his eyes from the man behind the desk who'd been 'drinking on the job'. Sheriff Central quickly replaced the bottle of whisky in the drawer and wiped his lips free of any evidence.  
  
"What can I do for you?" He asked, trying to sound confident.  
  
Vin reached into his pocket and pulled out the wanted poster of Eli Joe and handed it to the sheriff. "I'm bringin' 'im in."  
  
"Okay," the sheriff replied, getting to his feet. "I'll need to see the body." He grabbed his gun belt off the desk and slipped it on before heading outside.  
  
Vin followed, he'd done this many times before and wasn't expecting anything different. He watched as the sheriff grabbed a handful of hair and picked up Eli's head, trying to compare the real face with the image on the poster.  
  
"Son." The sheriff looked up and drew his pistol.  
  
Vin jumped back in surprise and raised his hands in the air. He wasn't about to get shot now.  
  
"That ain't, Eli Joe." He motioned with his weapon for Vin to go back inside the office. "That's Adam Carter."  
  
"I didn't kill 'im, he was dead when I found 'im," Vin tried to explain, but his pleas weren't being heard. The sheriff was too excited about catching his first 'real' outlaw. It was the end of the pistol that pushed Vin into the only cell the sheriff's office had.  
  
The door slammed shut and Mark seemed to be glowing. He went to his desk and took another drink out of his bottle of red eye. "What's your name?"  
  
Vin leaned against the far wall of the cell trying to think of a way out of the situation. "Tanner," he replied coldly.  
  
"Tanner, what?"  
  
"Vin Tanner," his voice was softer this time.  
  
"Well, Vin Tanner, you're goin' to stand trial for murder, and then…" a wicked smile appeared on the sheriff's face, "you're gonna hang." He laughed, before opening the door wide letting the sun enter the room. "I'll only be a minute," he said sarcastically, then headed outside. He grabbed the lead rope of the horse that carried Adam Carter, and headed for the undertakers.  
  
******  
  
Vin slammed his fist against the wall scraping his knuckles against the harsh stone. He glanced outside and could see his horse still tied to the hitching rail. He could tell Digger was twitching his ears because he didn't understand what was going on. Vin didn't know what he was going to do. He knew Eli Joe had set him up; it was a gut feeling that he'd chosen to ignore…until now. He'd been on the outlaws trail for too long and he'd given him too many opportunities to learn Vin's tactics. So, Eli Joe set the young sharpshooter up…framing him for murder.  
  
When Vin leaned forward he rested his arms on the iron bars knowing he'd never last long in a place like this. He'd lived his whole life in the open, and the racing of his heart, and the sweat that seemed to gather at his forehead only confirmed his fears. When the door to the cell moved, he stepped back and looked carefully around. He pushed again on the iron door and it swung open. The iron was so old it hadn't locked when the sheriff had slammed it shut.  
  
Hesitantly, Vin took a step outside the cell and then made the determination. He'd find the real Eli Joe and bring him in. This wasn't running, just…finding the truth. Vin took a peak outside and determined that nobody was coming around. He rushed out of the office and jumped on Digger's back and kicked the animal into a fast gallop. If he used to be a racehorse, now was the time to prove it.  
  
Vin could hear someone shouting and then the sound of gunfire filling the air, but thankfully nothing hit him. He knew he'd have to worry about a posse…and eventually…a wanted poster of his own. He would eventually clear his name. He didn't know how and he didn't know when…just that he would.  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Vin looked at the wrinkled up poster of himself and sighed. The likeness was horrid. He was now wanted with a five hundred dollar bounty on his head. He wrinkled up the poster and threw it into the blazing fire. This wasn't the way things were supposed to turn out. Digger stood behind him, munching on some grass. The horse had more confidence than he did at the moment. What was he going to do? He couldn't go anywhere without the bounty following him wherever he went. He was out of money, no job, and he didn't own anything of real value.  
  
Digger took a step forward and nudged his master's shoulder as though trying to comfort him. Vin chuckled. The thought of being tied to the back of a horse and hauled in for a crime he didn't commit disturbed him. Not just because he didn't do the crime, but because it caused him to wonder how many men he'd brought to 'justice' that had been innocent. Some never denied their guilt, other's never had the chance, but there were a few that did, and it was those that gnawed at his conscious.  
  
Vin kicked some dirt on the fire to extinguish it. He needed to find a job, something low profile. He'd used up all his resources, he'd even sold his rifle, and for a man who was wanted…he needed to be armed with more than a knife and a fast horse.  
  
He had to thank Bea and Evan for teaching him how to hide, and he had to thank Chola for teaching him how to hide his tracks. Being on the run had taught him a new respect for the weather, the land, and people in general. It was the little things that mattered now. Things like the smell of a fresh baked apple pie, or the sound of horses' hooves pounding the ground, and yes, the soft touch of a gentle breeze.  
  
There were a great many things he wanted to accomplish before his time on earth was over. He'd never been in love with a woman, or known what if felt like to be loved passionately in return. He'd seen love and felt the love his mother had for him. But it wasn't the same. He wanted to belong to something bigger than himself, something with meaning and…destination. Though his life had been full of experiences, to him, it felt empty.  
  
Vin mounted up on Digger and kicked him in an all too familiar direction. This time however, his destination was unknown.  
  
******  
  
Town bustled with activity. Not the kind of activity that most towns were familiar with. No. This town ran wild with outlaws. Men that Vin felt he could blend in with. If bounty hunters didn't enter this town, afraid of the clientele, then it was a safe bet that Vin would be safe…for a while.  
  
It looked as if the town had at one time been full of promise, with a newspaper, sheriff's office, bank, and several other small shops. Though many had been abandoned and boarded up, there was still a few that remained open.  
  
Outlaws, drunken cowhands, and troublemakers in general ran up and down the street firing their weapons and causing problems. Even the sheriff stood off to the side, more afraid to make an arrest than put a gun to his own head. Vin shook his head and stopped his horse in front of the hardware store.  
  
******  
  
Virgil Watson stood behind the counter counting his new shipment of door hinges. He was an older man with a thick head of hair and heavy glasses. He looked up when the bell above the door rang and a younger man with wiry long hair, a simple blue shirt, and light brown pants entered the hardware store. Unlike many of the town's other occupants, this one wasn't drunk, didn't carry a weapon, and he looked in need of something.  
  
"What can I do for you?" The storekeeper asked, setting his pencil down on the counter.  
  
"I, uh," Vin paused, moving closer to the counter. "I'm lookin' for a job."  
  
Virgil nodded. "This ain't the best town to be looking for a job," he said, looking the younger man over.  
  
Vin shrugged his shoulders. "Better than some places…worse than others."  
  
"Can't argue with you there," Virgil said with a chuckle. "Job ain't glorious, but it pays five dollars a week."  
  
"Sounds good." Vin smiled, shaking his new employer's hand.  
  
Virgil introduced himself and then quickly showed Vin the ropes, some of that included a broom and apron. Not an vital job by any means, but one that supplied him and his horse a place to live and food to eat. He'd managed to acquire an old abandoned covered wagon, which he quickly turned into his quarters. Though he didn't have much to fill it with, it did suffice as a place to sleep and shelter from the rain. Digger, however, stayed in the livery, with a stall of his own and fresh food and water.  
  
******  
  
This might not have been the life Vin had dreamed about as a child, but it was a life regardless. With all the other activity in town nobody ever noticed him. He was just the young man that worked for Virgil Watson, better than being 'the outlaw worth five hundred dollars'.  
  
When several of the town's current residents decided to hang a man, Vin decided he'd had enough. He threw his apron onto the counter and then grabbed one of the rifles from the weapons rack and a handful of bullets. Mr. Watson followed him out of the store, not wanting to lose the rifle.  
  
It was the man in black across the street that captured Vin's attention. In any situation it was better to have someone to watch your back, and for some reason the young sharpshooter knew he'd found the man that would do it. Vin nodded when he captured the subtle movement of the dark stranger's eyes.  
  
Nobody was going to get hung today.  
  
The End  
  
Notes: Putrid Fever, also known as typhus or diphtheria, depending on where you look, was a morbid and painful way to die. For the purpose of this story I did not go into any detail on the suffering Vin's mother would have gone through.  
  
The Alabama Indians were forced from their land, from what is now known as Alabama, and down into Texas over 200 years ago. They did not live in tee- pees, but rather small huts or cabins. For the most part they were a very peaceful tribe, however, they did fight with ferociously with other tribes. 


End file.
